


I Loaf You

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dildos, Heat Sex, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Bites, Phone Sex, Top!Cas, True Mates, a/b/o dynamics, alpha!cas, bottom!Dean, ellen/bobby - Freeform, mentioned bess/garth, office!AU, omega!dean, prior dean/others, virgin!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Dean Smith’s a hard-working omega who’s got it all. A nice apartment, a good job with an upcoming promotion, friends and family who care about him. Hell, he’s even got some alpha buddies to help him out during the worst of his heats. The only thing he doesn’t have is a steady relationship, but Dean’s more of a married to his work kind of guy. Which is what he keeps telling himself over and over once the new guy, Castiel, starts flirting with him.Oh, and did I mention Dean’s an omega who can’t smell? That tends to complicate the whole “relationship” thing when everyone’s sniffing around for their true mate.





	1. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :) I've had the idea for this fic for a while now (at least the general premise), and after some failed attempts at another fic, I realized, "Hey! This idea would be perfect for tropefest!" So here it is, my entry for the [2017 DeanCas Tropefest](http://deancastropefest.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> I'd like to thank my lovely beta readers [miraakcultist](http://miraakcultist.tumblr.com/) and [supernatastic101](http://supernatastic101.tumblr.com). And let's not forget the amazing and talented artist [aqua-ref](http://aqua-ref.tumblr.com) who did the art for this fic - it's awesome and adorable and I think really fits the story <3 Check out the [art post](http://aqua-ref.tumblr.com/post/164953062869/my-part-for-deancastropefest-with-jhoomwrites#notes)!
> 
> If you'd like to find me on tumblr, I'm [jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com) and I'm always up for talking about deancas :)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this story!
> 
> Note: I'm on mobile as I submit this, so if anything like weird (especially the embedded art), please let me know and bear with me as I fix it. Thanks!!

****Dean Henry Smith was born on January 24th at 8:35 pm. He hollered in the hospital room as the nurses weighed and measured him (21 inches long, 7 pounds 2 ounces, omega), then bundled him up to hand to his mother. His father was standing by, ready to take the first pictures of his mate and his pup together, but Dean wouldn’t stop crying.

The nurses shared a look. Something was wrong. They’d never known a newborn pup who couldn’t be comforted by the smell of their omega parent (or in a pinch, _any_ omega—that was a large reason why almost all the nurses in the maternity ward were omegas), but not Dean. The mewling baby wouldn’t stop fussing, no matter how close they lay him next to his mother’s scent glands.

Ellen and Bobby shared anxious glances as the nurses talked frantically in hushed voices.

“What’s wrong with our boy?” Bobby demanded over Dean’s pitiful wails.

“I’m sure everything’s—” one of the nurses began, but a look from Bobby shut her up. “We’ve told the doctor, she’s on her way.”

Dean’s cries only stopped when he tired himself out and fell asleep. Ellen cradled him close, at a loss how else to comfort her son. Bobby didn’t pace or fidget or do anything other than stare at his wife and son. As solemn as he was, there was nothing to stop the way his heart was racing and the anxiety that grew every moment that the doctor wasn’t there.

“Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith,” Doctor Barnes said as she swept into the room. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I wanted to look at your son’s blood work and consult with some colleagues before I came to speak with you. I know this is scary, and I wanted answers.”

“Great,” Bobby said through grit teeth. “But would it’ve killed you to let _us_ know what you were up to?”

Dr. Barnes faltered for a second before smiling apologetically. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry.” She sat on a stool between them, wheeling forward so she was between the hospital bed and the chair where Bobby was keeping vigil. “Let’s talk about Dean, shall we?”

“Is he okay?” Ellen asked. The infant pup shifted against his mother’s chest, hand curling around one of her fingers.

“He’s not in any danger. He’s a completely healthy little omega baby, with one minor, non-life threatening exception. We’ll have to run more tests to be sure, but it’s likely he has anosmia or more likely hyposmia. I’m sure those sound like terrifying words to new parents, but they’re both completely manageable conditions—”

“Stop pussy footin’ around and just tell us what the damn conditions even _mean_ ,” Bobby snapped.

“Anosmia is a complete lack of smell and hyposmia is a severely underdeveloped sense of smell. Again, we’re not sure what the cause is, but Dean’s inability to be soothed by smelling his omega parent is a good indication that’s what we’re seeing here.”

“Is there any way to fix it?” Ellen asked.

“Not unless we can figure out the exact cause, but it’s unlikely. There are hormone treatments to help if it’s a problem with his nasal passage, but if it’s the olfactory bulbs then there’s little if anything that can be done. We’ll obviously do everything—”

“How’s he supposed to bond?” Ellen interrupted. “Pups bond with their parents through scent. People bond with their mates that way. How’s he going to do that if he can’t smell?”

“There’s nothing to stop people from forming scent bonds with _him_ , so there’s no reason Dean can’t have a perfectly normal relationship when he gets older. And best case scenario, he has hyposmia and hormone therapy will help him build some case of smell. For now, though, there are other ways to build bonds between pups and their parents. Breastfeeding will help, so will talking and singing to him since he’ll already be familiar with both your voices from during your pregnancy. Just spending time with him the old fashioned way will do the trick.”

“When will we be able to find out if it’s this hypso-whatever or the other thing?”

“We’ll do some tests later. For right now, it’s more important that you guys get some time together and rest.” Dr. Barnes lay a hand on Ellen’s knee and squeezed. “Things are going to be okay, guys.”

It took a while to believe her, but slowly Dean bonded with his parents. His omega’s calming scent and his alpha’s strong presence did nothing to soothe him when he got fussy, but their voices and touch did wonders. It was almost easy to forget that Dean wasn’t like other pups. He was such a happy baby, all smiles and laughs; how could there be anything seriously wrong?

They waited until he was nearly a year old to start hormone therapy. Part of Ellen had hoped that the doctors were wrong and Dean’s sense of smell would develop on its own.

It didn’t.

Reluctantly, they made the decision to pursue treatment options. If it could help Dean have a more normal life, then they felt like they had the responsibility to try.

There was some initial success, but the treatment made Dean sluggish. He slept more, ate less, and wasn’t quite himself. After only two weeks, Bobby and Ellen took him out of the hormone therapy. As soon as the medication was out of his system, he perked up and was his usual, happy self again.

They tried one other time, just as he started grade school. The same issues came up again, though this time Dean could vocalize how miserable it made him. The first time Dean hid in his room to avoid going to the hospital, whimpering when Bobby picked him up, Ellen broke down in tears and cancelled the appointment.

“We can’t keep doing this to him,” Ellen whispered. Dean had cried himself asleep in her arms, relieved that he didn’t have to get any more injections. “What kind of message are we sending the boy? He’s happy, he’s wonderful… Why we tryin’ to ‘fix’ something that isn’t even broken?”

“I don’t disagree,” Bobby said. “I just want him to have everything.”

“Me too, but I don’t want to hurt him on the off chance it might give him something he doesn’t even need. If he gets older and wants this, I’ll support him in that, but for now the decision’s up to us and I can’t…” Ellen shook her head. “Bobby, I can’t stand seeing him like this.”

They withdrew Dean from the program, and did their best to make sure Dean never felt like he was missing anything.

To their credit, he didn’t. Even after his sister, Jo, was born without the same condition, Dean never got the impression that he was anything but loved by his family. As he grew older, of course he started to realize he _was_ different. It didn’t really strike him as bad, but he couldn’t help but be aware of it, especially as more people noticed and asked about it.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t smell, he just couldn’t smell very well. Everything was muted to the point that it was basically meaningless. He couldn’t tell smells apart or even really decide if they were good or bad. More pungent aromas made him sneeze and stuffed up his nose, so more often than not, Dean hated it when there was actually something strong enough for him to smell.

The only exception to his aversion to smells was his family. The doctors had told him that the stronger his bond with someone and the stronger their emotional state, the more likely Dean would be able to pick up on things. Sometimes, Dean got fleeting whiffs from his parents and his sister, but no idea _what_ those smells were. He didn’t have the experience to tell him what exactly he was smelling. He’s been _told_ what his family’s scents are, but the information was meaningless.

Though there were definitely times when his nose would catch something that reminded him of his family. Cut grass would make him smile, reminding him of his dad. Pecan pie was his favorite, not because of the taste, no matter _how_ amazing it was, but because something about it made him think of his mom. And certain chocolate bars, ones with dark chocolate, made him think of Jo. He couldn’t ever pin down _why_ he liked those smells, or even if he actually smelled them or was projecting what he knew, but he liked them anyway.

The emotions thing, that was something Dean really didn’t get.

Everyone told him that there were smells involved with heightened emotional states. The whole concept was foreign to him, being able to _smell_ how people were feeling. Couldn’t he just figure that out by _looking_ at their faces and _listening_ to them? How the hell could there be a whole other sense to give that information? Half the time, he thought it was complete bullshit.

The other half of the time, he thought there might be something to it.

There was that time Dean got in a fight in middle school. He’d been escorted into the principal’s office with a black eye and told to wait there until his parents arrived to pick him up. He’d been mortified, though secretly pleased with himself because, no matter what anybody said, Azazel had _deserved_ it for the things he’d said to Garth, and waited for his punishment. His backpack cradled to his chest, he’d sat there waiting for his parents.

His nose prickled and he’d sneezed. It was that same feeling he recognized as an almost smell, but it was even more bewildering than usual. The smell—whatever it was—was distinctly unpleasant and had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Seconds later, his dad rounded the corner looking absolutely _furious_ . After a long shouting match with the principal about how their school deals with bullies and students who defend themselves against them, Bobby had taken Dean home. The smell slowly diminished the farther they got from the school, but Dean never forgot the feeling: the awareness that he wasn’t just seeing and hearing his dad’s anger, but _smelling_ it.

“Can you really smell when people are angry?” Dean asked that night over dinner. He hadn’t had much of an appetite, his mind too busy thinking over his fight with Azazel and the events in the principal’s office. Try as he might, he couldn’t forget the itchy feeling in his nose when his dad had showed up.

Bobby and Ellen shared a look to see who would handle this. They took too long, apparently, because Jo stepped in.

“Yep!” Jo slurped up some more spaghetti before going on. “I can smell Mommy and Daddy and you all the time. Like if you’re really happy or really sad or angry or something. And sometimes I can smell other people, like when Mrs. Tran is happy we all did good on our tests.”

“Oh,” Dean said with a frown. “I think I could smell that you were angry at the school, Dad.”

“The doctors said you might be able to, though I suspect it’s not easy to figure out,” Ellen said. “Takes a lot of practice with someone to know that sorta thing.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Your mother gets into one of her moods, I _still_ can’t tell if it’s because she’s upset or—Ow!” There was a _thump_ from under the table and Bobby glared at his wife. Ellen smiled smugly.

“See,” Jo whispered to Dean. “Mom smells happy and Dad smells annoyed.”

“Okay,” Dean whispered back. “But like… I can _see_ she’s happy and that Dad’s annoyed. What’s the point of _smelling_ it, too?”

“Just the way it is, darlin’,” Ellen said. “You smelled your dad was angry?”

“I smelled _something_ , but I didn’t actually know he was angry until I saw him.”

Ellen gave Bobby a look. “You must’ve been _pissed_ ,” she teased.

Bobby ignored her.

“I wasn’t angry with you, for the record,” he said to Dean. “I ain’t exactly _thrilled_ to be called from work in the middle of the day ‘cuz you got yourself in a fight, but I’m proud of you for sticking up for your friend. Though next time I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use your fists to do it.”

“Yes, Dad.”

They ate in silence for a while until Ellen asked, “Is that something you’d like to be able to do? Because we could always put you back in hormone therapy—”

“No,” Dean answered automatically. He’d been young the last time, barely remembered it. Even so, the general misery he’d felt throughout the whole process lingered. It’d take a lot more than the temptation of smelling emotions to get him to change his mind on the matter. “Definitely not.”

As he grew up, Dean got a few more whiffs of his family’s emotions. When he first learned how to drive, he’d gotten into a _minor_ car accident. Didn’t stop Ellen from fussing over him for days (all he had was a few bruises!), and the smell of her worry followed her around. And then there was how proud his family was when he won his regional wrestling match. The smell had clogged up the house so thickly he’d opened every window to get rid of it.

Every time something like that happened, Dean was sure the smell was _there_ , but he never knew if it was good or bad based solely on itself. Most of the time, it made him nauseous or gave him a headache if it was too much. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with that kind of sensory input _all the time_ and wondered how anyone managed it without going crazy.

Luckily, those strong emotions didn’t happen often. The types of highs and lows necessary for Dean to pick up were rare at the Smith household. Besides, if Dean ever needed to catch his parents in a good mood for something, Jo helped him figure that out.

Dean was still completely oblivious to the smells of those he wasn’t bonded to. Friends of his were able to pick up on when he was excited or bummed, but not once did it go the other way. Even when Garth was clearly over the moon that he and Bess were going to homecoming together, Dean didn’t get a phantom smell letting him know.

Sometimes he wondered what all the fuss was about. If it would be better (easier?) if he could smell like other people did.

Despite all of that, though, Dean never felt like he was _less_. So he couldn’t smell very well, so what? It hadn’t stopped him from making the wrestling team, or keeping good grades, or getting scholarships.

It wasn’t until college that Dean realized that no matter how whole he felt, there were people out there who really did think he was broken.

\- - - -

The one big negative that his doctors kept harping on was scent bonds. Not with family or friends, because obviously family and friends would accept that he couldn’t reciprocate their scent bonds, but with mates. Dean might never be able to fully scent bond with a mate, making it unlikely that their cycles would ever line up. No scent bond plus no synced cycles meant problems conceiving. Which, the doctors implied, would mean never getting a mate or losing his mate to continued scent-related issues.

That wasn’t even  _ touching _ the topic of true mates. It was ridiculous, overly romantic nonsense. How could a  _ smell _ override things like compatible personalities? Dean’s seen plenty of attractive people in his life, but if they’re dumb as a doorknob, the looks aren’t going to balance that out. Same’s gotta be true for scents, right? 

“What the hell kind of mate wouldn’t accept me if I can’t smell?” Dean yelled into the phone. 

He could  _ hear _ Jo rolling her eyes. “A shitty one? Trust me, I get it. If someone can’t handle you for you, then they’re no good as a mate. Isn’t that the whole point of a mate? Someone who accepts you and loves you despite your faults? I mean, look at Mom and Dad. Those two are rough around the edges but they make it work because they’re friggin’ mates. 

“Honestly, if someone’s a dick about your nose thing, that’s the first sign to kick them to the curb. And then give me their address so I can kick their asses.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll help matters. Getting my little sister to beat people up for me because they hurt my feelings.” Dean loved his sister, but she was one of those betas who acted like an alpha. It’d gotten her in trouble more than once and he figured it would plenty more in her life. “But thanks for the support.”

“Any time, bro. Now tell me about how school’s going so I have something to report back to Mom and Dad…”

Confident that he was a decent guy and encouraged by his family and friends, Dean dated all throughout college. It was mostly casual, a few long term relationships here and there, but mostly it was Dean trying to figure out what he wanted out of a relationship. With that in mind, he was an “equal opportunity” omega.

He started with betas. Betas were kind of in the same boat as him with their weakened sense of smell. Sure, it was still better than Dean’s, but their expectations for scent bonding were lower. (And okay, maybe Dean was a  _ little _ nervous about what the doctors said. So sue him, he didn’t want to be rejected outright for something he had no control over and that, as far as he was concerned, was the least interesting thing about him.) 

Betas were fun. They were nice and calm and didn’t go through the stress of full on heats or ruts, making them great partners all of the time. They liked sex but never demanded it, never  _ craved _ it above all else. First Cassie and then Aaron? Those were some of his first real relationships ever, and he could easily see himself falling for a beta.

But betas weren’t terribly common. After Aaron, Dean found himself uninterested in the few other betas he’d met on campus. It was only a matter of time before he ended up with an omega.

His favorite thing about omegas was how gentle they were. Not to say he never had rough sex with another omega, but their underlying personality was soft and sweet (Dean wondered if that was how people saw him; probably, and he wasn’t completely upset by that image). They were great at caring for others and pampering Dean during his heats, and they never felt uncomfortable accepting the same affectionate treatment from him. 

It was easy; he knew what omegas liked, what they expected, and he could reciprocate easily. Dean could see himself falling for an omega. Lisa especially was tempting, their personalities meshing well, but at the end of the day Dean knew it wouldn’t work out long term. He felt like there was some spark missing, something he wasn’t getting. So like with all his other relationships, he moved on after a few months.

And then there were alphas.

Betas and other omegas were great, but there was just something about being knotted that Dean loved. Especially if he was in heat. They were big and aggressive and Dean kind of liked being manhandled. Dean might be an omega, but he was by no means small and he’d done wrestling all through high school; anyone who could hold him down hit all kinds of kinks Dean wasn’t willing to admit out loud.

After his first few times with an alpha, Dean knew. If he were ever going to fall for someone, it’d be an alpha. One that was strong and rough but tender and affectionate when Dean craved that. His junior and senior years of college, he went through a whole string of alpha partners. There was Gordon and Abaddon and then Benny (though that was more of an ongoing friends with benefits arrangement where they helped each other through ruts/heats if they were single). None of them were the type of person Dean saw himself mating with, but as far as flings went they were exactly what he needed.

They were also trouble, which Dean learned the hard way.

Most alphas—not all of them, but a  _ lot _ of them, at least in Dean’s experience—were just like his doctors had warned him. They didn’t want a mate who’d never get attached to their scent. They wanted the scent bond _ and _ the blood bond. They did  _ not _ want someone who couldn’t read their moods, who couldn’t appreciate it when they scented them. They didn’t want to deal with an omega with a nose worse than a beta’s. 

They didn’t want  _ Dean. _

And then there was Michael. The alpha that seemed like he’d be Dean’s knight in shining armor. 

Michael seemed like the right balance of sweet and rough. He’d take Dean on nice dates, flatter him endlessly, and shower him with affection… and then he’d fuck Dean into the mattress like their lives depended on it. It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t. 

Michael’s knot finally went down enough for him to pull out, and the two fell apart on opposite sides of the bed. A quick makeout session had turned into a quick fuck and now they were late for class. Not that Dean particularly minded; he’d endure his professor’s glare if it meant another mindblowing orgasm.

“So Thanksgiving’s next weekend.” Dean probably shouldn’t bring it up while they were still shell shocked and enjoying their afterglow, but he’d put it off long enough. “I know you don’t plan on going back home over break, so I thought maybe you’d like to stop by my parents’ place. It’s only an hour away.”

“Ha! Yeah right, good one.” Michael laughed as he rolled over to grab his phone and check it. He even went so far as to unlock it and start reading through emails.

“... I was being serious.”

Michael looked at him like he was trying to gauge if Dean was in fact being serious. “Why would I go to your parents’ place?” he asked slowly. “Isn’t that a little… personal?”

“Personal?” Dean repeated incredulously. “We’ve been dating for six months! How is meeting my parents too ‘personal’?”

“We’re not dating.”

There was no way Dean heard that right. Clearly one of them had misunderstood the question. 

“What the  _ hell _ do you mean we’re not dating?”

“We’re not dating. This…” Michael motioned between them. “This isn’t dating. This is two adults fucking semi-regularly.”

Dean tried his best to keep his anger down, his omega instincts screaming at him not to yell at his alpha. 

Fuck those instincts.

“In what way are we not dating?” Dean shouted. “We see each other almost every day. We get dinner together. We hang out with each other’s friends. You keep your fucking clothes at my apartment. You have a  _ toothbrush _ in my bathroom. I don’t know why you’d think we  _ aren’t _ dating. What kind of fucking idiot looks at our relationship and thinks ‘nah we’re just fuck buddies’?”

Michael rolled his eyes and got out of bed. “Did I ever  _ say _ you were my boyfriend, Dean?”

“Don’t think you can use that as a fucking  _ excuse _ for being a colossal dick about this whole thing.”

“Don’t get so emo about it,” Michael chided as he grabbed his pants off the floor and put them on. “We’ve only ever been about sex, I don’t know why you thought there’d be anything else. Long term, this was never going to last.”

Dean rubbed at the bruises running along his neck where Michael had nipped and sucked repeatedly, going on and on about a mating bite for the pretty omega. It’d  _ felt _ like there was a long term plan.

“I guess,” he grit out, “maybe I took you at your fucking word when you were marking me up—”

“Dean,” Michael scolded, “you can’t hold someone to what they say or do during their rut or when their knot’s about to pop. You’re a big boy, you should know better.” He noticed Dean’s expression—or maybe his smell, for all Dean knew—because he walked back over and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “I’m not your first alpha and I won’t be your last. You should learn these things.”

“Next time maybe  _ tell _ the person you’re fucking that you’re not into them. You ever think of that?”

“You’re very pretty and you smell nice. Aside from this whole misunderstanding, you’re even a smart guy. But I was never going to mate an omega who can’t even  _ smell _ their alpha properly. Grow up.”

He squeezed Dean’s shoulders one more time before grabbing his shirt, draping it over his back as he headed out. “Take it easy, Dean. And call me if you’d be up for a quick—” Dean’s glare shut him up and he backtracked. “Well, then I guess this is it.”

Without even a backward glance, Michael left.


	2. Dean

6:00 a.m. Dean got up for work. First it was a quick run on his treadmill, then a shower, then a fruit smoothie. _Maybe_ some coffee if he’d been up late the previous night finishing up a project.

7:45 a.m. Dean headed for work. It was a long commute because of traffic, but it gave him a chance to listen to podcasts, listen to audiobooks, or check in on his parents. They pretended not to love it when he called them in the morning, but he could hear how pleased they were every time he did it. Sometimes he even called Jo, but she was still in college and didn’t appreciate being woken up that early.

8:50 a.m. Dean arrived at his office at Sandover. His secretary always had an herbal tea waiting for him, along with a croissant or scone. His tea was always the perfect temperature and she had a way of talking him into the extra calories the snacks entailed. (“You deserve to treat yourself once in a while, boss!” Never mind that she brought him one _every day_.)

After convincing him that a _few_ bites wouldn’t end up going straight to his thighs, she’d walk him through his schedule for the day. One of the things he loved about Becky was how organized she was and how well she knew his routine. She managed his meetings, got him the files he needed, and made sure he ate properly. Dean wouldn’t even notice he’d missed lunch, too absorbed in conference calls or marketing reports, and she’d show up and wordlessly slide a salad onto his desk before walking out.

Plus, the omega was feisty, which was especially appreciated whenever he had a difficult client he needed to get out of his office. She even had a way of scaring off his boss, Adler; the first time she’d done that, Dean knew she was a keeper and had given her a raise.

5:05 p.m. Becky would stop by to see if he needed anything else before she went home for the day. This was usually accompanied by a lecture about not working too hard and going home at a reasonable hour. Becky was nice and good at her job, but Dean would like her a tad more if she scolded him a tad less. He didn’t care for yet _another_ person judging him for working so hard.

Corporate might appreciate the hours he put in and the millions he’d brought in to Sandover, but the judgemental alphas he worked with apparently thought he was wasting his time. As one of the few omegas working at the executive level, he got _looks_. Snide comments and the occasional suggestion that he’d probably quit once he got himself a mate and a pup.

It usually only motivated Dean to work harder and make those knotheads look even more incompetent.

10:30 p.m. This was Dean’s “must be home” time. While Becky’s lectures rolled right off of him, he’d had to promise his mom he wouldn’t work himself too hard too fast.

At least when Ellen scolded him about his work, he knew it had nothing to do with him being a “weak omega who’d burn himself out.” She wanted him to have _more_ than a job. Not necessarily a mate or a pup unless that’s what _he_ wanted, but hobbies and friends and really just _any_ source of fulfillment

“Would it make you feel better if I got a cat to keep me company?” Dean teased one night. He slipped into his apartment at 10:31 (technically past his self-imposed curfew, but he was willing to let it slide) and his mom had called to check in on him.

Ellen laughed over the phone. “It might, ‘cept you and animals don’t get along. You’d probably stay at work longer just to avoid dealing with the damn thing.”

“Yeah, probably. How ‘bout this, I’ll take a whole two weeks off for Thanksgiving this year and visit you and Dad?”

“... So long as you don’t use that as an excuse to work more, I ain’t about to turn down seeing you for two weeks.”

“I’ll book a ticket tonight—”

“You’ll get your ass in bed, is what you’ll do.”

“—tomorrow morning before work. Tell Dad hi for me.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. I’m callin’ at 9 tomorrow to check in.” And then she hung up before Dean could object.

Not that he could really argue. She kind of had a point. Dean didn’t do much once he got home, maybe ate a quick dinner if he hadn’t gotten something at work, did some yoga to relax, then went right to bed. Sometimes Dean wasn’t even sure why he bothered with such a nice apartment if he only ever came here to sleep. It wouldn’t kill him to actually cook himself a real meal and catch up on Dr. Sexy, things he usually reserved for the weekend. Maybe he’d start taking more “me time” instead of working.

Dean wasn’t even a little surprised when he got home the next day at 10:10 and the day after that at 10:04. That weekend, he never got a chance to cook that meal and watch TV, since some potential clients invited him to go sailing and it seemed like a good opportunity to schmooze (never mind that he got seasick and hated the choppy water in the bay).

“Me time” was overrated, anyway.

\- - - -

“You’re single, right Mr. Smith?”

Dean eyed his secretary warily as he sipped his tea. Becky had a tendency to try and set people up on blind dates, and, from what he’d heard around the office, they didn’t always go well.

“Yes…” It’d been years since he’d had a serious relationship. Not since Michael… As much as Dean tried to convince himself that _wasn’t_ the reason why he avoided the dating scene, he couldn’t really deny it. “But I’m not really—”

“Good!” She smiled bright and Dean was even more nervous. “I have a friend who would be _perfect_ for you. She’s really pretty and smart and would totally be able to keep up with your running and yoga and health food, and she’s—”

“I don’t date alphas.”

Becky stopped short, telling Dean all he needed to know about her friend.

“Why not? I promise, she’s not like other alphas—”

“Becky,” he said, keeping his tone level to show he wasn’t angry but still wasn’t about to let her change his mind. “I barely date as is, I’m not wasting my time on an alpha. You find me a beta or an omega friend, then _maybe_ I’ll let you set me up. Otherwise, I’m not interested.”

Becky pouted but didn’t argue. Without another word, she left him to finish the blueberry muffin she’d gotten him and went back to her desk. If he was lucky, Becky wouldn’t take this as an invitation to _find_ him a beta or omega to set him up with. She was well-meaning, but Dean didn’t want or need the help with his love life. He had it all perfectly under control and just the way he liked it. He had Benny to help him through heats if he needed it, and the rest of the time he found one night stands to keep him company.

Besides, he didn’t even have time to seriously date anyone right now. He was up for a promotion and he put in a lot of hours to make up for the time he was taking off at Thanksgiving. His mom wouldn’t be happy about it, but hey, this was his career. When push came to shove, she’d understand.

“Your 9:30 is on the phone,” Becky said as she poked her head into his office. “He’s a bit early, want me to put him on hold—?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Dean wiped off his hands and grabbed the files he’d need for this call. “Put him through.”

Becky lingered in the doorway.

“... There something else?”

She shook her head and worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she burst out, “I’m sorry about the whole blind date thing! I get not wanting to date alphas, I totally do, and it was way out of line for me to even _think_ I should set up my _boss_ with anyone—”

“Becky?”

“Yes?”

“It’s fine. Maybe don’t do it again, but it’s fine.” He waited until Becky breathed out in relief before he smiled. “See, water under the bridge. Could you put Novak through now?”

“Oh! Right! Yes, of course, I’ll just…” Becky disappeared and almost instantly Dean’s phone was ringing.

“Door!” Dean called, hand on the phone. Becky kicked the door, and only once it had clicked shut did he pick up. “Cas?”

“Hello Dean. It’s been a long time.”

Hearing that low rumble, Dean felt a blush creep up his neck. So sue him, he really liked the sound of Novak’s voice saying his name. Thank god they were on the phone today instead of Skype or Cas would notice for sure.

“Yeah, I guess it has. How’s Hong Kong treating you?”

“Well, though I’m not sure the food agrees with me.”

“Where they sending you to once you’re done there?”

“Hmm not sure… I think there was talk of LA? It doesn’t matter, I’ll survive the next two weeks. There’s always McDonald’s right?”

Dean laughed, all thoughts of alphas and blind dates forgotten. Cas was probably his favorite work contact. He was one of Sandover’s traveling assets, going wherever the company needed him to make deals on behalf of the big shots upstairs. He established relationships and then sent clients Dean’s way to close them.

The two of them had been working together for a couple years now. It’d started as all business; Cas was formal and a little uptight, and it’d taken him a while to relax and warm up to Dean. Their first few emails and phone calls had been pretty stilted, but eventually Dean had convinced him to do a few Skype conferences instead. Being able to _see_ Cas gave him a better read on him. Half of what he’d taken as Cas’ naivety was actually dry humor, and once he’d figured that out things had gone a lot smoother.

If it weren’t for the fact that they’d never met in person, Dean would think of Cas as a friend.

Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, Dean pulled up the last email chain from Cas. “So what do you have for me today?”

“Well, their CEO is definitely willing to negotiate and I think we just need…”

When Cas was talking business, he was incredibly focused and intense. Dean admired it, actually. He did his best to do the same, diligently taking notes and asking questions when he needed to. Only once they had an action plan in place did Dean close the folders on his desk and start chatting. He had a good hour before his next meeting, so Dean figured he could spend at least a little of that catching up with Cas.

“So…” Dean fiddled with some paperclips just to have something to do. “You watch Star Wars yet like I told you to?”

“No,” Castiel admitted. “I _did_ watch manage to catch one on TV the other day, but it was halfway done and I’m not even sure _which_ movie it was. It proved far more confusing than anything else.”

“Well, was Harrison Ford in it?”

“... Which one is he again?”

“The pretty one with the nice hair.”

“... Maybe? I’m not sure what constitutes ‘nice hair.’”

Dean bit back a smile. He could _hear_ the damn air quotes Cas was so fond of. “Okay, well, let’s start with what you _do_ remember...”

As Dean interrogated Cas about the movie (which was probably Empire), he lost track of time. Becky knocked on the door and urgently pointed at her watch. Reluctantly, Dean ended the call with Cas and wished him good luck in Hong Kong (“And hopefully LA. They’ve got _everything_ food wise, sure you’ll find something you like.”), then rushed to the boardroom. He was at least five minutes late and had to smile apologetically when he snuck in.

What could he say? He really had a softspot for Novak.

~~It didn’t hurt that he wasn’t hard on the eyes, either.~~

\- - - -

Thanksgiving was actually a lot of fun. Dean got the chance to see his family for more than he had since college, and he’d even gotten some of that “me time” he’d been neglecting. He actually went to the _movies_ , something he hadn’t done since… Well, he couldn’t actually remember when. Normally he had to wait until movies came out On Demand, so when he and Jo made it to a late night screening of some random Marvel movie, Dean fully took advantage. He greedily hogged the popcorn and was that loud, obnoxious moviegoer who commented way too loudly and applauded at the end.

Embarrassing Jo was just an added bonus.

He was a little sad to say goodbye to his parents and sister. Maybe he could convince them to move out to Columbus with him. If he got a good bonus this year, he might even be able to afford a small place out of the city for his parents…

His apartment felt especially lonely after being back at his childhood home, and Dean threw himself back into work with more exuberance than usual. Maybe he _should_ try dating again. A fling might be just what he needed to keep distracted from how damn _big_ and _empty_ his place was.

Seeing his customary herbal tea on his desk on Monday was a damn godsend. He needed to get back into his routine before he did something stupid like pick up some random alpha from a bar.

Although...

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Becky warned. “Adler’s on his way. He kept asking for you last week—”

“It was _Thanksgiving_ !” Dean said incredulously. “I wasn’t at work. _You_ weren’t here either, how’d he even—?”

“I got _lots_ of emails,” she huffed. “Anyway, he has important news for you or something and he’s been stalking my desk. I told him to just _call_ you if it’s a big deal, but nooo, it _has_ to be done in person.” She leaned forward and whispered urgently, “Are we getting fired?”

“Doubt it. Adler fires people on Friday afternoons so they can’t cause a scene.”

“Promotion then?”

Dean shook his head. “Doubt it. My yearly review’s not until February. I won’t be finding anything out until March.”

“Okay then I’m out of ideas…”

A knock at the door made Becky squeak in alarm. Then she straightened her blouse and skirt, turned to Dean and calmly said, “Mr. Adler’s here to see you.” Turning to Adler, she politely asked, “Can I get you anything, sir? Coffee? Tea?”

“No thanks, Rebecca. Just need to talk to your boss for a minute.”

“... It’s Becky.”

“I knew that,” Adler said with a laugh, giving her a dismissive wave as he took a seat across from Dean.

Becky glared at the back of his head but thought better than to call him out on his obvious bullshit.

“As if ‘Becky’ isn’t short for ‘Rebecca,’” Adler said with an amused laugh once she’d left the room. “Omegas, right?”

Dean ground his teeth together and counted to five while he debated telling Adler off.

 _Becky’s name_ **_is_ ** _Becky._

 **_I’m_ ** _an omega._

_God I hate this prick. If he weren’t my boss…_

Wisely deciding this wasn’t the time to pick a fight, Dean swallowed his pride and ignored the comments. “So what can I do for you? _Becky_ says you’ve been meaning to talk to me.”

“I’m assigning a new member to your marketing team.”

“Okay… You’ve got an intern for me or something?”

That hardly warranted Adler stalking his office and harassing his secretary. They got interns all the time, and HR funneled a lot of them Dean’s way because of some bullshit about omegas being more nurturing. Really, it was just that Dean wasn’t a colossal dick; he remembered being in college and nervous about working in an office. He helped get them settled and showed them around until they were confident enough to ask to be moved to a more relevant department. It wasn’t particularly hard or time consuming, but few people other than Dean were willing to do it.

“An intern? God no.” Adler made a face. “I wouldn’t waste your time with someone like that. No, I’ve got a quality asset for you. Any guesses who it is? I promise, you’re gonna like it!”

Dean politely smiled. Adler was a showman which had helped him back when he was in sales, but it didn’t work as a management style. Getting to the point was a much more valued skill, as far as Dean was concerned.

“Not a clue.”

“It’s Castiel Novak! He’s back permanently from his work overseas. As I’m sure you know, he helped successfully open the Japanese branch and closed some new contracts in the Middle East. Everywhere we’ve sent him, he’s brought us _millions_. But he says he’s tired of traveling, so we brought him here. I think you two have worked together, right? At least I assumed so, since he specifically requested joining your team.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Dean nodded. “We have. Never met him in person, though.”

 _Cas wants to work with_ **_me_ ** _?_

“You two will get along swimmingly. Cas is probably one of our best, but don’t tell him I said that or he’ll ask for a raise.” Adler laughed at his own joke and Dean tried to muster at least a fake smile, but luckily Adler didn’t care. “He’s a highly respected member of the Sandover family, and you, Dean, are going to help him get settled in here.”

“Not a problem, sir.” Of all the inane things Adler’s asked of him over the years, this was one Dean genuinely didn’t mind doing. He and Cas had a great working relationship and he’d _dreamed_ of hanging out with Cas. The dorky guy was easily Dean’s favorite work contact, and the idea of working _in the same city_ instead of having to have Skype conferences seemed awesome. He could take Cas out for drinks and see if they really did get along as well face to face as they did over the phone.

Not that he was going to tell Adler any of that. If Adler thought he was doing Dean a favor, he’d be _impossible_ to deal with.

“Glad to hear it! He’ll be here after the holidays. Guess I better get down to HR and have them get an office ready for him...” After a quick handshake goodbye that seemed for too self-congratulatory for his tastes, Adler disappeared.

Becky peeked around the corner. “Are we fired?” Then she took one look at Dean’s face and perked up. “Ohhhh you’re _happy_ about whatever Adler said.”

She all but skipped into Dean’s office and took a seat. “Spill! What is it? Are you getting a raise? If you get a raise, can _I_ get a raise? OH! Could I get my own assistant!?”

“Becky?”

“Yes boss?”

“Calm down.”

“Yes boss.”

“I’m just getting a new member on my team. Apparently Cas— _Novak_ is moving to work in Columbus full time.”

“Aww that’s great! I know you miss having a work buddy around. And once Sam gets back, you’ll have _two_!”

Sam Wesson from IT was probably the _only_ person at Sandover Dean willingly hung out with outside of work, but Sam had been out for paternity leave for the past few months. He and his mates had twin pups at home and Sandover was _very_ generous with leave. And while Dean certainly missed having Sam around, Dean honestly hadn’t even considered having Cas around as being the same thing.

_Probably because you’re not interested in Cas being a work buddy…_

_Ugh,_ **_no_ ** _. I_ **_don’t_ ** _date, and I_ **_especially_ ** _don’t date coworkers. Besides, I do_ **_not_ ** _have a crush on Cas. I’m just excited to have the dork around is all._

_… We could have a movie night!!!_

_Yeah, this is totally the behavior of someone who doesn’t have a crush. You’ve been smiling since Adler told you and you’ve already planned out a Happy Hour and movie night. Face it, you’ve got it bad._

With a sigh, Dean tried to focus on his work for the rest of the day and _not_ think about Cas coming to town.

He failed miserably.


	3. Castiel

Castiel’s first day at the Sandover offices in Columbus was actually a Saturday. He wanted to be prepared to work come Monday morning, and that meant taking care of the business of settling in. His office was easy enough to find, near the elevators on the fifth floor, but a complete disaster. All the files he’d asked for were there, boxes stacked everywhere. Random office supplies were scattered across the desk and there were some knick knacks clearly left over by the room’s previous occupant.

With a sigh, Castiel plugged in his phone, turned on some music, and started getting organized.

It took the better part of Saturday and a few hours on Sunday to get things set up the way he liked them. Thankfully, he was the only one around aside from the occasional custodian or security guard, so there were no distractions. Just him, his favorite playlist, and his work. 

He hadn’t had the privilege of an actual office in some time, so perhaps he spent more effort than necessary making it feel like his own. After the work stuff was properly filed and put away, he set up his desk for maximum efficiency. Satisfied, Cas focused on his own decorative touches: a few plants for the window, the honey bee sculpture his sister had made him back in grade school, and a childhood photo of him and his sister holding their pet guinea pigs. The rest of the sculptures and paintings he’d collected over the years were still in storage, but these would do for now. 

On Monday, Castiel arrived right at 9:00 a.m. and headed to his office. It was already a welcome sight; he hadn’t gotten a chance to see the city much and everything felt unfamiliar and strange. Soon he’d settle in, but for now he had his office and the temporary housing Sandover had set him up in.

He checked in with his secretary (an older omega named Missouri who smelled like pine and wheat, a strange but soothing combination), answered a few emails, and basically waited the proper amount of time not to seem overeager. At 9:29 a.m., he asked his secretary where Dean Smith’s office was.

_ You swore you’d wait until 9:30,  _ he scolded himself. 

“Good morning,” Castiel said brightly to Dean’s secretary. The name on her desk read Becky and she had the sweet smell of lilacs. Castiel noted that the only two secretaries he’d encountered so far were omegas and wondered if that was coincidence or spoke to some unofficial company hiring policy. It wouldn’t surprise him; plenty of businesses did that despite the laws attempting to stop that kind of discrimination.

Not even looking up from her desk, she asked, “Do you have an appointment?”

“No?” Cas had really hoped to  _ avoid _ appointments while getting to know his new team in Columbus. Appointments and schedules had been  _ exceedingly _ necessary when he was traveling, but now that his life was fixed here, he’d taken for granted that  _ other _ people needed or liked that kind of structure.

Plus he’d wanted to surprise Dean.

“Then you’ll have to leave. Mr. Smith is a  _ very _ busy man and doesn’t have time for walk-ins today. If you’d like to schedule an appointment—”

“It says here on this schedule that he doesn’t have a meeting for another two hours.”

“... It’s rude to read stuff on people’s desks.” Too late, she attempted to drag a folder over the large calendar covering most of the surface of her desk.

“It’s rude to  _ lie _ , if I’m not mistaken.” The secretary grew red and Castiel held out his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just trying to touch base with Dean. It won’t take more than a few minutes, I promise.”

The omega tapped her fingers on her desk for a moment before she sighed. With measured steps, she got up and walked over to the office door, knocked, and stepped inside. “Boss? There’s some random alpha out here who wants to talk to you. Should I let him in or give him the business?”

Cas stepped behind Becky, looking over her into the office.

“That’s not some  _ random _ alpha.” Dean’s voice reached Cas and he smiled; this was really happening, he was finally going to get to meet Dean in person. “That’s Cas! Cas, c’mon in!”

Stepping aside, Becky motioned Cas into the office. Dean wasn’t at his desk, instead sifting through a filing cabinet. He abandoned the task and stepped forward to greet Castiel.

As soon as he was in the room, the smell hit him. 

All weekend, there’d been nothing. The ghost of smells more than anything else; the janitors did a remarkable job of cleaning and barely a trace of personal smells lingered from the workweek. Castiel had gotten a whiff here or there—an earthly smelling alpha, a metallic smelling omega, a few scents so muted he could only guess they were betas—but nothing distinct. 

Now, in the confines of Dean’s office, Castiel was assaulted by the most delectable aroma he’d ever smelt. It was rich and buttery, honey sweet with fruity undertones. The further he went into the room, the more his own scent of bread and wheat combined with Dean’s. Instantly he imagined a lush breakfast, toast covered in creamy butter, biscuits with honey dribbled into every nook and cranny, jams of all types ready for the feast at hand.

His mouth watered and, despite himself, his cock twitched in interest. He’d never been attracted to a smell before. He’d encountered many pleasant ones, but never one that triggered that alpha instinct of  _ claim fuck mine _ . 

True mates.

He and Dean, they were true mates. 

Castiel could hardly believe it, hardly believe that the man he’d grown to admire from afar was his true mate. Dean, who was so smart and kind and gorgeous that Castiel had been nurturing a small crush on him. Cas grinned broadly, absolutely  _ thrilled _ . Would their bosses allow them to take the day off? Surely true mates, something rare and precious, would be given some leeway. Sandover went above and beyond when it came to the benefits they provided their employee’s mates, surely—

“Cas? You alright there, buddy?”

Slowly, Cas refocused on the world around him. Dean wore a confused smile and held his outstretched hand. There was no joy or delight in his eyes, his smell remained as clean and unaffected as it had when Becky first announced him. There was nothing but warmth and friendliness, but nothing more than one would expect between long standing acquaintances.

“Can you not… don’t you... ?” Cas fumbled for words, unsure how to ask the obvious.  _ Can’t you tell we’re mates? _

“Oh no…” Becky whispered under her breath.

“What?” Dean asked, finally dropping his hand. “There something wrong? Do I have something stuck in my teeth? C’mon guys, talk to me—”

“It’s nothing!” Becky said. “Not a big deal. I uh… I just remembered that I have to uhm… help Mr. Novak with some paperwork… Yeah, that sounds good. Paperwork. They stopped by and I should go make sure he gets that taken care of. Come on, Mr. Novak.” She gestured frantically for him to follow as she edged out of the room. “Let’s go take care of that  _ paperwork _ .”

It was almost impossible to get his feet to cooperate. Castiel’s mind rebelled against the very  _ idea _ of leaving Dean. Instinct wanted him to stay rooted to the spot, if not go closer and breathe in that rich scent straight from the source. He wanted,  _ needed _ to—

Becky pulled urgently at his sleeve and, reluctantly, he let himself be dragged out of the office. They didn’t stop even after Becky slammed the door shut, cutting Castiel off from Dean’s scent; instead she carefully weaved in and out of the cubicles outside Dean’s office and made their way to an empty corner by the service elevator.

“Okay,” Becky said as she released him. “Okay… That was… That was intense. But we got through it, and you’ll be fine now, right?”

Out of habit, Castiel nodded. He had no idea what she was talking about. Dean  _ had _ warned him that his secretary was excitable, but he wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“You’re going to have to take it slow with him or you’ll scare him off.”

“... Take it slow?” Cas repeated. “Take what slow? 

“The whole dating thing?” She saw Cas’ frown and she gasped. “You  _ are _ going to date him, right? I mean, I know  _ he _ can’t smell it but that’s no excuse for  _ you _ not to make a move—”

“Wait, what? Can’t smell it? Who can’t smell? What are we even talking about?”

Becky blinked a few times and then shook her head sadly. “Oh hon… You have no idea, do you?”

“Obviously not,” Cas said, his annoyance growing.

“Mr. Smith can’t smell. So while it’s obvious to  _ you _ and to  _ me _ and probably to anyone who gets within a few feet of you two that you guys are true mates, he has  _ no clue. _ ”

“Dean can’t smell?” 

Becky nodded in confirmation. “I think he can a little bit, but not very much. He has some condition or something. He doesn’t really like to talk about it. I’m one of the few people around here who even knows, and that’s only because he gets me to help him identify if people are alphas, betas, or omegas.”

It felt like the ground had been pulled right out from under him. He wobbled on unsteady legs and Becky guided him to a nearby chair next to a sorry looking plant in desperate need of water. 

“He doesn’t… So he has no idea?”

“No,” Becky said. Her expression and smell oozed sympathy. Cas tried to ignore it.

“But I could  _ tell _ him—”

“Not a good idea. Mr. Smith… he’s a good guy, okay? But if you told him this true mate thing, it’d freak him out. He doesn’t  _ get _ smells. Pretty sure he thinks I’m making some things up when I talk about mates and pheromones and all that.”

“Oh.” Cas sat there, quietly staring at his shoes. The euphoria of finding his mate had been so completely and effectively shattered that Cas could scarce remember how to breathe, never mind how to function.

“It gets worse.” 

“Of course it does.”

“Look, I don’t really know much about  _ why _ , but Mr. Smith doesn’t date alphas. I tried to set him up with an alpha friend of mine a few months ago, and he made it really clear he wasn’t interested. Hey!” She swatted him. “Don’t give me that look! If I’d known he had a true mate out there, I wouldn’t have done it!”

Castiel belatedly realized he was growling and stopped. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” There was an unspoken  _ Don’t do it again _ . No wonder Dean liked her, Becky was an  _ amazing _ secretary.

“So I have a mate who doesn’t know he’s my mate and who doesn’t want anything to do with alphas,” Cas grumbled. “Basically, I should just give up?”

“If that’s your attitude, yeah, you probably should.”

He looked up at Becky in astonishment.

“Hey, Mr. Smith deserves the best. He goes on and  _ on _ about you, and you two smell like you’d go great together… but if you’re not willing to put in a little work trying to win him over the old fashioned way, then you  _ don’t _ deserve him,” she said flatly. 

She was right. If he was willing to give up at the first sign of trouble, Castiel didn’t deserve Dean. If he needed alluring scents to win over a mate, what did that say about him? 

No, he could do this. He  _ would _ do this. Dean was more than worth it. 

“Where do I start?” 

Becky smiled wickedly. “I’m glad you asked…”

\- - - -

Castiel couldn’t avoid Dean. They were members of the same team and Dean was technically his superior. They worked together all week, and by the end of it, Cas was almost used to that lovely butter-honey scent. It didn’t startle him anymore, didn’t take his breath away when he entered a room and encountered it, and it certainly didn’t leave him a babbling idiot. Usually.

The scent  _ did _ make his mind wander in ways he wasn’t used to. He’d get lost in Dean’s eyes or the sound of his voice, long for his touch and, failing that, his presence. Often, he imagined himself bridging the gap between them and stealing Dean’s lips in a kiss...

As new and exciting as these thoughts and feelings were, Castiel kept it professional. No matter what his body was urging him to do, Castiel kept a reasonable distance between them and avoided staring too much. It was obvious everyone around them knew about the scent bond beginning to form; it was probably less intense for them, but couldn’t have been easy to ignore. Together, their combined scent dominated a room and dampened everything else. 

It was equally obvious that Dean had no idea. He did  _ not _ smell their connection, and Cas observed more and more evidence that he genuinely didn’t smell much of  _ anything _ . He never knew what people were eating or drinking at lunch, he didn’t wrinkle his nose at the bitter smell of ink after a copier mishap, and he failed to catch onto Becky’s annoyance at another secretary (a beta named Kevin) for accidentally stealing her favorite pen. 

Though it hurt Castiel to refrain from talking to Dean about their bond, he now saw the wisdom of Becky’s advice. Dean couldn’t smell; he lacked the sense necessary to know what Castiel was saying was true. No matter what Castiel said, Dean would have to take him at his word. A week ago, it would’ve been difficult for Castiel to understand the pull Dean’s scent had on him. He couldn’t  _ imagine _ being in Dean’s position and having to go on blind faith that their combined pheromones  _ wanted _ them together. 

He’d be patient. If their biology was right, they’d fall for each other anyway. And if not, well, that was Castiel’s burden to bear.

\- - - -

“Pack up, we’re leaving.”

Castiel hadn’t been expecting Dean, and the sudden entrance startled him. Mostly because he hadn’t had time to mentally prepare himself, and he was hit with the full force of Dean’s delicious scent.  _ In his office _ . Thank god it was Friday and the cleaners would likely remove all traces of it; Castiel didn’t think he’d be able to concentrate if any of it still remained come Monday.

“What?” Cas asked.

“It’s five on a Friday. We’re leaving. I’m gonna take you to my favorite bar for happy hour, show you around town a bit. So pack up and let’s go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

They arrived at a bar a few blocks from the Sandover building. The entrance looked very nondescript, nothing more than a sign that read “The Roadhouse” over the door, but Castiel more than trusted Dean’s judgement. The inside was equally generic, though perhaps the decor a little more weathered than the average bar. Pool tables lined one wall, a jukebox played what sounded like a Beatles cover, and a couple alphas argued by a dart board near the bathrooms. 

It had all the appeal of a dive bar, and Castiel smiled. It was very Dean, who dressed the part of corporate executive but occasionally let his southern drawl slip in. Castiel knew all about Dean’s family from their chats, knew that he liked to play at city life but underneath it he was a small town boy from Texas. This place had all the benefits of being in the city (large menu, good beer selection), but all that local charm you could only find in dives.

Dean nodded to the bartender as they went right to a table by a stage. There was no one on the stage, but Castiel saw signs promising karaoke and live performances. As soon as he could, Dean flagged down a server and ordered them nachos and a few beers. They shared the nachos, fingers brushing occasionally, and Castiel wondered if this would qualify as a date.

_ You know this isn’t a date _ , he reminded himself.  _ He’s just helping a coworker adjust to a new city, that’s all. _

An hour and a couple beers later, it was a lot harder to keep that in mind.

They talked about work, Dean curious what Castiel thought of everyone at the office and how he was settling in. That quickly became them talking about apartments and neighborhoods, local events and exhibits Dean thought Cas would like. It warmed Castiel’s heart to hear Dean’s thoughtful suggestions, proof that Dean at the very least thought they were friends after their years working together.

When the conversation momentarily lulled, the silence was comfortable instead of oppressive. It wasn’t perfect, not by any means, but it was a start. A solid foundation between them that hopefully, with time, they could build into something more.

Dean leaned in, his scent wafting over, and Castiel struggled not to fall into its siren pull. Dean wasn’t interested in that, had no idea how suggestive it was when he laughed and exposed his neck to Castiel. Or maybe he did, but that didn’t change that Dean didn’t date alphas. Castiel wasn’t going to settle for being a quick fling; he wanted Dean to take any relationship they started seriously.

He’d just have to be patient.

Their brief staring match continued until Dean abruptly pulled back to a more reasonable distance. Looking for a distraction, his eyes roamed the bar. Castiel pretended not to be affected by the proximity and then the loss of it, focusing on his drink instead.

"That..." Dean squinted and stared over Castiel's shoulder for a moment. "... beta? She’s really into you. You should ask her out." 

“I doubt—”

“Just take a look,” Dean urged. He nudged Castiel’s arm and smiled encouragingly.

Castiel rolled his eyes but obliged. He turned to look over her shoulder but Dean hissed: "Dude! Don't just... you can't just  _ look _ .”

“How could I have possibly done that wrong?” Castiel huffed in annoyance. “You told me to look so I looked.”

“I mean, yes look, but don’t… you can’t… you gotta be  _ subtle _ ."

Ignoring Dean, he turned back around and looked in the direction Dean had been. There was a petite brunette at the end of the bar making eyes at him. When she saw him looking, she winked and motioned to the empty seat next to her.

"First of all," Castiel said as he turned back around, "she's an alpha, not a beta. Second of all, she’s aesthetically pleasing, but I’m not interested."

Dean deflated a little. "... You can  _ smell _ her from here?"

Castiel shrugged. 

“Coulda sworn she looked like a beta,” he muttered under his breath. "Okay, fine. She's not your type. Lemme know what your type  _ is _ and I'll try to play wingman for you. It’s a Friday night, the bar’s full… there’s gotta be someone here you’re into."

_ There is, _ he lamented.  _ But I’ve been told to ‘move slowly.’ _

"That won't be necessary, Dean. I didn't mean to imply that I wasn't interested in _ her _ specifically. I'm not interested in dating in general. I don't see the point in such meaningless courtship for the sake of sex. It seems a futile endeavor to date a random stranger and  _ hope _ to fall in love with them.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “So what? You’ll only date someone if you’re in love with them? How do you fall in love at all then?”

"Do you..." Castiel swallowed hesitantly. "Do you believe in true mates?"

Castiel has had this conversation a dozen times before with countless friends, family members, and colleagues. True mates were rare and most people dismissed the idea unless they had  _ personally _ met such a pair. Castiel had only heard the stories, but he’d felt drawn to the idea. He’d experienced no attraction, felt no interest in the transience of dating, and certainly didn’t want sex with someone he hadn’t connected with. A true mate, though… there’d be instant attraction. There’d be a bond, there’d be the promise of something  _ lasting _ . 

And though this was a topic he’d discussed at length, it had never made him nervous before now. With Dean, the implications were different, whether Dean knew it or not.

It wasn’t as though he’d ever expected to  _ find _ his true mate. That’d been a happy accident. Now, though, he felt crushed by the pressure of navigating an actual romance for the first time in his life. 

Dean snorted. "Someone who smells so good you forget that they might be a serial killer or completely incompatible with you or like... doesn't even watch Game of Thrones? Nope, can't say that I do."

“Well… I do believe in the… in the  _ possibility _ of each of us having a true mate out there. I know it’s an overly romantic idea and maybe a tad old-fashioned, but there’s something about it that’s always appealed to me.”

“I mean, I’m a sucker for a good chick flick with true mates like everybody else,” Dean said, shifting closer so their knees bumped together. “But c’mon man, it’s just chemical. And doesn’t that scare you at least a little? Finding out the moment you meet someone and BAM!” He slammed the table, shaking their glasses. “Suddenly you’re supposed to be together forever? Sounds fucking terrifying to me.”

“It did scare me,” Castiel admitted. It used to terrify him, actually. Despite the hope for a solid relationship, the idea of losing control like that… It worried him. Would his hormones take over and make him blind to obvious problems with his mate? Would he find himself, years later, stuck with a mate he was biologically compatible with but unable to hold a conversation with?

But then he’d met Dean, and all his worries had dissipated. All of their interactions had been long distance at first. They’d gotten to know each other over the course of  _ years _ , and he’d fallen for Dean without the knowledge of their scent bond there to distort his perception. 

When he’d first stepped into Dean’s office, it hadn’t been the overwhelming loss of control he’d feared. 

It’d felt like coming home.

“Did?” Dean said, and Castiel frowned as he tried to remember what he’d just said. “What, you change your mind?”

“Oh.” He tried to brush off the question with a half-shrug, but Dean’s curious gaze demanded an answer. “I suppose I have more faith now than I once did.”

“Finding out your body wants someone you know  _ nothing _ about… I dunno, seems like a  _ huge  _ leap of faith. I don’t know if I could make that jump. But hey, to each their own. You keep looking for Mr. or Mrs. Right, and I’ll keep looking for Mr. or Mrs. Right Now.” The wink he gave at the end seemed disingenuous at best, but Castiel couldn’t fathom why he thought so.

“I take it you aren’t looking for a mate.”

“Nope. Married to my work and all that. Don’t really think I’m mate material, anyway.” 

It sounded like a rehearsed speech. As much as Castiel’s had to talk about true mates with people to explain his lack of dating, he suspected Dean’s had to do the same to justify his reliance on casual dating.

Disappointed, but by no means surprised (Becky  _ had _ warned him), Castiel tried to look unaffected. “As you said, to each their own.”

“Exactly!” Dean grinned widely.

“Do you… ever think you’ll change your mind and settle down? I don’t mean to pry or sound judgemental, I’m simply curious. My sister refused to talk about mates when she first started working as a lawyer. For years she shut down any attempts my parents made to broach the subject and they finally gave up pestering her. Then she made partner, decided she’d reached as far in her career as she wanted to, started dating, and within a year was pregnant with her first pup.”

“Wow, your sister got that done quick. From no mate to a pup within a year.” Dean whistled. “Bet she was young when she made partner, too. Sounds determined.”

“She did and she is, believe me. Though I think she’d had her eye on this particular beta for some time and merely ignored the whole thing until she’d accepted the position as partner. My point is, though, that she maintained a career focus and then shifted once she felt she had the time and energy to balance her work with a relationship. What about you? Is this a right now ban on serious dating, or do you think you’ll keep it up?”

Dean took a sip of his beer as he considered. 

“Undecided, I guess. Maybe if the right person comes around… I’ve gotten pretty picky over the years. Found some people who’ve come close, but there’s always  _ something _ that doesn’t click. If I could find someone who hit everything on my list, then maybe I’d give them a shot? But trust me, that’s not going to happen.”

_ I’m guessing “no alphas” is pretty high on that checklist. _

_ Do I really not stand a chance? _

“So what about you?” Dean said, interrupting Cas’ thoughts. “You for real on that no dating thing? You saving yourself for your true mate?”

“It was never my intention to ‘save myself.’ I simply never found someone I'd been attracted to enough to pursue a physical or even romantic relationship with.”

“You must have higher standards than I do…” Dean looked briefly disgruntled before it disappeared. "So seriously, so you don't date at all?"

"No. Didn’t even bother getting dates to homecoming or prom."

"... But you _ have _ had sex, right? There has to have been a few one night stands in there somewhere. Like in college or when you were traveling. I mean... you  _ traveled _ . Talk about making it easy to do the whole one and done thing."

With great effort, Castiel refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a coming headache. This was the man he was falling in love with, the omega likely to be his future mate if fate was to be believed, and yet here he was saying such callous things. 

_ He's just deflecting. This is a performance. He doesn't necessarily  _ **_mean_ ** _ any of this nonsense. This is the facade he's had to put on for years now to cover up whatever happened in the past with alphas or whatever else it may have been. Be patient with him. _

"I have not," he said simply. "I'm... not interested. I want to have a connection to my partner before being intimate with them. And since I’ve never  _ felt _ that type of romantic connection with anyone, I’ve never felt the desire for sex.”

“Oh.” There was a long, drawn out pause before Dean blurt out: "What do you do during your ruts? Every alpha I've ever known has whined like the world was coming to an end during their rut if they didn’t have an omega or beta around to help them through it." Dean instantly colored and looked away. "Shit, this is really private and I'm prying and we fucking  _ work _ together. I can't believe I asked that. Ignore me, I'm drunk."

"You're not drunk, you've only had two beers."

"Okay, well, I'm tipsy. Here, look.” For good measure, Dean chugged the last of his drink. “See, I’m just babbling. Please forget I asked that, okay?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“So… you a sports fan at all? Sandover’s got a suite at Nationwide if you wanna catch a Blue Jackets game.”

Mercifully, Castiel allowed the change in topic. 

“Is that a football team or a basketball team?”

Dean laughed, a melodious sound that Cas was quickly coming to adore. He leaned over to pat Cas’ knee. 

“Oh man are you in for a treat…”

\- - - -

Castiel had no idea how to “woo” people. His dating experience was nonexistent, his only real sources for that sort of thing being secondhand accounts from his siblings and friends or what he’d seen in his limited TV and movie viewing. It was even more tedious given that every move he made had to be clandestine. He wasn’t openly courting Dean. He didn’t step into Dean’s office, announce his intentions, and then proceed to buy him chocolates and flowers. 

If he did anything like that, Cas had no doubt Dean would run for the hills.

He tried to view it as a game of chess. Calculated moves that required him to anticipate his opponent’s next few moves. 

If only it  _ were _ chess, Castiel was sure he’d be able to win.

Becky took it upon herself to be his coach and mentor when it came to Dean. She suggested restaurants for them to go to at lunch. She found weekend outings for them to attend; monster movie marathons, art shows, brewery tours, garden parties, all of them activities that appealed to their mutual interests.

She helped Cas pick out tiny gifts for Dean. New cuff links, a cactus for his office, honey and biscuits from a local farmer’s market (he was  _ sure _ Becky was poking fun at him with that suggestion, but the honey and biscuits were admittedly quite good). Dean blushed every time Castiel offered him one of the gifts, smiling sheepishly as his eyes darted to the floor in a submissive display. No doubt unconscious on Dean’s part, but more than enough to rouse Castiel’s inner alpha.

Honestly, his awkward attempts at courtship felt  _ extremely _ obvious. It’d been  _ months _ , and his romantic gestures were getting bigger and bigger. It was all at Becky’s insistence.

“If Mr. Smith’s comfortable with the things you’re currently doing, you _ have _ to try to push for more. Baby steps, but you still gotta up the ante. You go from small to medium to big. You go from subtle to in your face.”

“But what if this is too fast—?”

“It’s been  _ months _ ,” Becky said with exasperation. “You want to be mated before you’re forty, right?”

“Ideally—”

“Then  _ trust me _ . You  _ have _ to keep pushing, or else you’re just standing still. You want to basically already be dating by the time Mr. Smith realizes he’s head over heels in love with you.”

Castiel frowned but relented. Her advice seemed to be working so far; he could think of no reason to stop believing her  _ now _ .

If Dean noticed this incremental increase in the attention Castiel paid him, he said nothing. Plenty of  _ other _ people noticed, whispering whenever they saw him and Dean leaving the office together, but Castiel paid them no mind. Their opinions, in support or otherwise, didn’t matter. What mattered was Dean.

Castiel typed away at an expense report, humming along to a song he almost knew, and thought about Dean. They were certainly friends by this point. Maybe now was a good time to push for more? Not much more, just one date. 

Dinner and a movie? No, that was too much like what they usually did together on weekends (though it  _ would _ be nice to hold hands during the movie and steal a kiss as he bid Dean goodnight).

Dinner and dancing? Dean would probably like that, but Castiel had two left feet. He vividly remembered his attempts to dance at his aunt Amara’s wedding as a teenager, and he didn’t care to relieve that embarrassment. Though if that’s what Dean wanted, maybe he’d give it another try— 

“What the hell is that  _ racket _ ?”

Castiel startled at his desk, looking up at Dean. 

They’d spent every day in each other’s company during the workweek since Castiel had started. Even if they had no projects or meetings that required them to interact, invariably one of them wandered to the other’s office. Cas considered it progress that Dean sought him out as often as he did Dean; at least  _ some _ of his affection for the omega was mutual.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, turning off the music radiating from his computer. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I didn’t think it was very loud—”

Dean waved a hand dismissively. “Music’s fine, I just prefer like… actual music. What was that shit, My Chemical Romance or something?”

“Uh…” Castiel squinted as he pulled open the music player and looked at the computer screen. “Twenty One Pilots.”

“Ugh, your taste is awful. You on Spotify?” 

Dean didn’t wait for an answer, sliding in behind Cas to poke around his computer. Dean had to lean over Cas’ shoulder to reach the mouse, brushing the alpha’s arm out of the way. As Dean navigated through Spotify, trying to find his own playlists, he failed to notice Castiel’s sharp intake of breath and the way he first relaxes into Dean’s proximity, then stiffened to try and escape it. 

They were ridiculously close, but Dean didn’t notice. Why should he? This had quickly become the norm for them; invading each other’s personal space and casual touches was their daily baseline for interactions. Dean was unaffected because it was no different than any other time they were together.

Still… Castiel’s heart beat so rapidly he wondered how Dean could possibly not hear it. 

“Here we go,” Dean said as he clicked on the first song. The office filled with the sounds of Metallica and Dean smiled at the alpha. “Some  _ real _ music. Perfect backdrop for some number crunching.” With a wink and pat on the shoulder, Dean stood back up and started heading back to his own office.”I’ve got a bunch of playlists in there, though. Let me know what you think.”

“Thank you, Dean. I will.”

Dean lingered in the doorway, fingers tapping against the door jamb. “Hey so… I was thinking…”

“Yes, Dean?”

The omega shifted uneasily on his feet. He looked more nervous than Castiel had ever seen him, and his mind immediately leapt to the worst conclusions. 

_ Either we lost the Bradbury account or Dean doesn’t want me on his team anymore because he’s noticed my unrequited pining for him. _

“There’s this new place downtown. This uh… this BYOB dinner place with all kinds of board games and arcade games. I thought maybe we could go together this Saturday.”

“Okay.” Castiel frowned. Why did Dean seem so nervous? His buttery scent had almost gone sour and the fruity undertones were overripe. It made Castiel’s nose itch.

“On a date. I meant we should go together… on a date. Just in case that wasn’t clear.”

Most of Castiel’s higher brain function shut off. It wasn’t until later that he was able to piece together what happened.

_ “I’d like that very much, Dean. I’ll pick you up at your place at seven?” _

_ “Awesome. See you then, Cas!” _

Dean had asked him on a date, and he’d said yes.

There was nothing he could do to rein in his pleased smile for the rest of the week.


	4. Dean

Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit—

Dean’s shoulder hit the wall as he rounded a corner too sharply, and he hissed in pain. None of that distracted him from the downward spiral of his thoughts.

_Calm down, Smith. You're freaking out over nothing. Get a fucking grip._

Except it wasn't nothing. It was huge. It was a _really big deal._

He'd asked Cas out on a date. _A date._

Cas was an alpha; Dean didn't _date_ alphas. Fucked them, sure. Did the whole one night stand thing with dinner and drinks followed by sex, but that wasn’t what this was. There was no way he wanted Cas for a night or two and then never again. He’d grown attached to Cas, liked having him around and missed him when he wasn’t. If it weren’t for Cas being an alpha, Dean probably would’ve asked him out as soon as he moved to Columbus.

He knew he’d had a crush on Cas, he just hadn’t known how bad it was until Becky had told him Cas was an alpha. His heart had sunk right then and there, and that’s how he knew. You don’t get heartbroken over crushes. You get heartbroken when you’re in love.

If that weren’t bad enough, he’d fallen completely off the deep end once they’d started hanging out. Cas was even more amazing than Dean had thought, which was saying something. Every week, he noticed something new about Cas. His grumpiness in the morning. The way he sometimes tied his tie backwards and needed help fixing it. That he’d talk to his plants as he watered them in the mornings. The guy was adorable, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore that.

_He’s still an alpha, though. Alphas are trouble._

But Cas... He wasn't your typical alpha.

Michael left Dean because he was a dick knothead who wanted a mate who could smell. Cas had made it abundantly clear he didn’t give a crap about whether Dean could smell or not. Not a _single_ snide comment, unlike Michael who’d dropped a few before the “break up.” (In hindsight, it was easy to see that Michael didn’t work for oh so many reasons, but it still stung.)

Cas was literally everything Dean wanted in a partner _except_ that he was an alpha. Given that everything else seemed perfect, Dean finally decided he owed himself and Cas a chance to find out if they could be something more than what they were. He’d hate himself if he didn’t try, hate the regret that would fester and ask him _what if what if what if?_

Didn’t mean Dean wasn’t going to freak out about it.

He should’ve asked on Friday instead of Wednesday afternoon. Now he had two whole days to obsess about it and maybe even chicken out.

“What’s up boss? You look a little…” Becky frowned as she tried to read his mood. “Well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something, but you smell like you’re happy so I really don’t know how to take that.”

“I smell happy?”

Was he happy?

He asked Cas out on a date and Cas said _yes_ . Obviously he was happy. Freaked out for sure, but definitely pleased that the alpha who “didn’t date anyone” and “hadn’t been attracted to people” was willing to date _him._

Fuck, did that mean Cas was attracted to him? It must. Dean had definitely _thought_ that, but given what Cas had told him, he hadn’t believed it.

“Yes,” Becky said, waving her hand in front of her nose. “You smell _really_ happy, holy crap. Open a window or something, geez.”

Following her own advice, she rushed into Dean’s office and opened the window behind his desk.

“So what? You get that promotion or something and you’re happy but worried about the new responsibility?”

Dean fidgeted in the doorway. Saying it made it real. “It’s not the promotion. Adler keeps putting off talking about it. I’m going to wait until Joshua’s in town and talk to him about it.”

“Going over your boss’ head? Bold move.”

“Bold moves get you promoted,” he pointed out. “They want leadership and they want people who get stuff done.”

“Okay.” Becky’s eyes narrowed as she took in Dean’s defensive body language. She sniffed the air curiously. “So what is it?”

He couldn’t look at her as he said it. Instead he focused on the ground, toeing at where the soft, beige carpet met the ugly brown tile of the rest of the building. His cheeks were already flushing in embarrassment, his heart was beating erratically, and he was pretty sure his scent or whatever was telegraphing his discomfort.

None of that stopped the big grin that spread across his face as he said, “Cas and I are going on a date this Saturday.”

There were maybe five seconds of stunned silence before Becky squealed and started jumping up and down. “Yes yes yes! Finally! Oh my _god_ , the tension between you two?” She fanned herself dramatically. “I swear, I was gonna die from the secondhand UST.”

“What the hell is _ust_?”

“Nothing,” she said dismissively. “So tell me everything! How’d he ask you out? Where are you guys going?”

“This place called The Board Room. It’s a restaurant cafe type place with a bunch of board games. I’ve been meaning to go there but haven’t gotten around to it. Not a place you go alone, y’know? And uh… Cas didn’t ask me out. I asked _him_ out.”

Becky’s eyes went wide. “Really? AHHH! It’s like Christmas! This is great! Oh my god oh my god oh my _god_! I’m going to call that restaurant and get you a reservation…”

Before he could stop her, she’d stormed past him and was at her desk. Dean didn’t have the heart to tell her they didn’t _take_ reservations, so he let her have her fun while he went back to work.

… Okay, maybe he looked into The Board Room’s game selection first and picked out a few beers to bring. But then he _definitely_ got back to work.

\- - - -

Dean hadn’t had this much fun on a date in _years_.

Granted, he hadn’t been on a date with a goal other than sex in years, but still. This was good. Despite his initial nerves, the evening was relaxed and easy. He and Cas clicked so well, there wasn’t much of a difference between them hanging out as coworkers/friends and them on a date. The only difference was when their legs bumped, it was intentional, and when Dean reached across the table for Cas’ hand, their fingers locked together.

They popped open a few beers, ordered some food, and commandeered a little table in the back. Castiel didn’t play many board games as a kid, so Dean eagerly chose several for them to play. Dean won Settlers of Catan, Carcassone, and Hive, but then Castiel absolutely destroyed him at Citadels, Fluxx, and Dominion. Determined to earn back some modicum of dignity, Dean demanded a rematch in the form of Yahtzee.

“This is mostly a game of luck,” Castiel said as he ended his first turn with nothing more than nine points for three threes.

“Uh, excuse you. It’s a game of immense skill and strategy. Also the game that taught me multiplication.” Dean did an elaborative shake of the dice cup—five shakes to the right, four to the left, a few more behind his back.

“Yes, I can see that now. I’ve never seen a more brilliant display of tactical dice rolling. You should be commended for your skill.”

“I know, right?” After one last flourish, he rolled his dice into the box. Five fours. “Yahtzee!” he yelled in delight. “BOOM! Someone doubted me and yet here I am, fifty points later and leading the game.”

“Yes, clearly I’ve been proven wrong. You are a god among men, champion of board games.”

“Flattery ain’t gonna win you the game,” Dean teased. “You’re up. Let’s see if you can get more than a measly nine points this time.”

The game actually ended in a tie. Dean’s early lead and luck couldn’t get him a completed card. Cas’ inopportune rolling didn’t hurt him in the end since he chose the least damaging ways to take the loss of points.

“So…” Dean said carefully as he finished packing up the game. They’d been here for hours, long enough that most people had cleared out and the kitchen had closed down. It was just them, a couple employees cleaning up, and a large group on the sofa by the front door. “I feel like we should have an actual winner. Doesn’t feel like a real game night if it ends in a tie.”

“Mmm,” Cas agreed, leaning back in his chair and watching Dean hungrily. “Do you have anything else in mind?”

Oh did he ever, but at the last second he bit his lip and didn’t offer to take Cas back to his place for another ‘game.’

“I think we’ll have to do this again sometime,” he said lamely. “Maybe go bowling or something.”

“I’d like that very much, Dean.”

The drive back to Dean’s place was tense. They talked about the games, Castiel explaining his preferences and his hope to play a few of them again. Dean fidgeted in the passenger’s seat and tried to decide if he should invite Cas up or not.

_You want him. A lot. Think about how good that knot would feel—_

_This isn’t a one night stand and you don’t want it to be a fling either. You invite him up now, that’s the tone you’re setting. Besides, Cas has never had sex before. Hell, he might not even_ **_want_ ** _to have sex. You should let him bring it up when he’s ready._ **_If_ ** _he’s ever ready._

Dean didn’t think he’d ever be able to convince Cas to give up on his true mate hopes (nor did he think he had any right to), but maybe Cas would give them up on his own. After all, Dean was breaking his own alpha rule for Cas, maybe Cas would do the same for Dean.

He was so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t realized they’d pulled onto his block. When Cas parked right outside the main entrance, Dean still had no idea what he was going to do.

“I had a lovely evening, Dean.” Cas’ voice was low and rich and definitely not helping Dean’s resolve to ease into this relationship.

“Me too.”

_You wanna come upstairs for a night cap?_

The words were on the tip of his tongue, so close to escaping that Dean was half convinced he’d already said them. Which would be bad. Very bad.

_I think…_

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop thinking so hard. I’m getting a headache watching you.”

Dean huffed a laugh and tried to dispel his worried thoughts. “Sorry. Just uh… just a little rusty at this whole dating thing. Not sure what the protocol here is.”

“I realize I don’t have any practical experience…” Castiel shifted closer. “But I think a good night kiss would be in order. Would that be alright? Could I kiss you?”

“Please…”

No matter what anyone said, Dean would _never_ admit that he whimpered when their lips finally met. It was chaste, barely even a kiss, and then Cas was drawing back. Dean didn’t let him, surging forward so violently his seatbelt nearly stopped him. His fingers dug into Cas’ hair and held him close while he devoured Cas’ mouth. Kissing Cas was amazing, so damn satisfying after so long staring at the alpha’s lips without claiming them as his.

“We can’t have sex,” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips. He had to say it, had to _hear_ it. As delicious as Cas tasted, he didn’t want to risk future happiness for a quick fuck right now.

Shit, when did he start thinking about a future with Cas?

“Okay,” Cas said simply. Their lips brushed and Dean gave in. They kissed again, and Dean drank in the feeling of chapped lips moving against his own.

“I’m serious,” Dean said when they stopped for air. “I know you… you haven’t… I don’t wanna—”

“It’s okay, Dean. This is good. This is so very good…” He stole a few more kisses then went back to the safety of his side of the car. “Good night, Dean. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Dean mourned the loss of Cas’ heat, but he nodded and opened the car door. “Yeah, I’d like that. Night, Cas.”

Walking away from the car was harder than it should’ve been.

God he couldn’t wait until Cas called tomorrow. Couldn’t wait to get back to work on Monday and see him again. Couldn’t wait for their next date.

Couldn’t wait to get his apartment, get a hand down his pants, and imagine all the things he wanted to do with Cas in his damn car.

\- - - -

They went on dates pretty much every night. The few nights Dean didn’t see Cas, they spent the evening texting. Although Dean didn’t tell his mom about his boyfriend (boyfriend! shit, he hasn’t gotten to say that since—no, he refused to even think that name; Cas didn’t deserve to be compared to _him_ ), he was sure his parents would approve. Dean had significantly cut down his hours at the office in favor of spending time with Cas. Long gone were the twelve hour days at work and the barely used apartment.

His work didn’t even suffer. The more time he and Cas spent together, the more in sync they were at the office. Reports that normally took hours got finished in less than one. Deals that would take weeks of careful negotiation were closed within days. Meetings didn’t need to be postponed because of scheduling conflicts; one of them was always available to cover for the other. Between the two of them, it felt like there was nothing they couldn’t get done.

Sandover noticed their accomplishments and rewarded them. Dean got his promotion and Cas got a huge pay raise. Neither particularly cared.

They did have dinner at Dean’s place to celebrate. A home cooked meal and wine. A movie while snuggling on the couch. Snuggles that turned into a lazy make out session.

Cas was so solid, so obviously _alpha_ in those strong muscles and the slight rumbling growl. Dean gave in to momentary temptation and lost himself to his desires. He slid into Castiel’s lap and threaded his fingers through Cas’ hair. It was easy to think he’d be able to control himself and stop things before they got too heated, but now that he was here Dean didn’t want to stop.

Shifting his hips, he lined up their cocks and rutted against Cas.

“Oh!” Cas gasped, breaking off their kiss. His eyes fell shut and he rested his forehead against Dean’s.

In the month and a half they’d been dating, this was the farthest they’d gone. They weren’t true mates, Dean wasn’t the one Cas had been waiting for his whole damn life, and it felt wrong to steal Cas away from that. Except… Cas was willing. Eager, even. He was never the one who broke away, never the one who ended things. It was always Dean.

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asked as he nipped at Dean’s earlobe.

“You.”

“And?”

“... and stopping,” Dean answered truthfully.

Like always, Cas yielded as soon as Dean asked him to. His grip on Dean’s hips relaxed and he leaned back on the couch. He was obviously still aroused, the bulge in his pants more than enough evidence of that, but his touches become soothing instead of lust driven. Cas’ thumbs rubbed circles at the small of Dean’s back, but mercifully he kept them on the outside of Dean’s shirt.

“Sorry.” Dean avoided looking Cas in the eyes. Sooner or later, they’d have to talk about this. They’d have to talk about the true mate/alpha baggage they both carried and figure out if they were over it.

Dean didn’t let himself think about how much he cared about Cas. That ever elusive L word was always there in the back of his mind, but Dean preferred to think of it as infatuation. Infatuation was safer. He really didn’t want to care that Cas was an alpha. What happened before was no way an indication of what would happen now.

 _But_ , the dark corners of his mind whispered, _if you have sex, Cas might start forming a scent bond with you. He knows you can’t smell, but he doesn’t_ **_know_ ** _what it’s like to have a mate who can’t respond to your scent. Especially Cas, who’s been waiting for his true mate. Why would he replace a dream with someone who’s broken?_

 _I’m not broken,_ he tried to protest. _I’m_ **_not_ ** _._

Until he got over his own issues, there was no way Dean could move forward to talk to Cas about _his_ hang ups.

“Don’t be.” Cas sounded so damn genuine, too. “There’s no reason to be sorry. You’re allowed to want to take things slow.”

“But I got you all…” Dean gestured vaguely at Cas’ crotch. “Worked up.”

“You’re also allowed to change your mind. I enjoy our time together, with or without the prospect of intercourse.”

Cas placed a kiss on Dean’s temple before helping him slide off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. Dean didn’t stray far, wrapping around Cas and leaning on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course, Dean.”

They watched the rest of the movie before falling asleep together on the couch. It was so domestic and nice, Dean’s heart nearly overflowed with happiness. Maybe they didn’t need sex after all.

\- - - -

Dean couldn’t stop sneezing.

His nose was acting up, reacting to some phantom smell. It was constantly there, almost like it was following him; at work, in his car, all around his apartment, when he went out with Cas, the smell was _everywhere_ . It’d crept up on him, he supposed, but recently it’d reached the threshold where he actually _noticed_ it. Then once he noticed it, he couldn’t _stop_ noticing it.

The worst part was, like most smells, he couldn’t figure out if he _liked_ it. Sometimes he thought it was pleasant, or at least interesting, but most of the time his nose was so damn itchy he couldn’t stand it. Given the choice, he’d probably prefer not to smell it at all.

The mystery scent was particularly strong one Thursday. His nose was full of it, constantly running all morning as he got ready for work. It felt like he had a cold; the only reason Dean _didn't_ think it was a cold was because of the damn smell.

… Which was actually so strong when he got to the office that for the first time since he noticed it, Dean was pretty sure he liked it. He couldn’t pin down _why_ , but there was something familiar and comforting in the smell.

Box of tissues in hand, Dean went about his morning preparing for a meeting. There were reports to gather, the team's presentation to modify and rehearse, and absolutely _no time_ to be sick.

“Dean.” There was a gentle knock on his door. “Would you like to run over…” Castiel cut off abruptly and stopped short of coming into Dean’s office. “Dean… you shouldn’t be working.”

He ignored Cas’ wide-eyed concern and kept making notes on his printout of the presentation. “It’s just a cold.”

“What? No it’s—” Cas finally stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “Your heat’s about to start. You shouldn’t be here. You should be at home resting. I can handle the meeting. There’s no reason for you to put yourself out for this.”

Staring at his boyfriend blankly, Dean tried to process what Cas had said. His heat? No way. The suppressants he was on kept him pretty regular; he wasn’t due for at least a few more weeks. Besides, he didn’t have any of his usual symptoms. There was no unending arousal accompanied by hot flashes so strong he sweat through his clothes within minutes. He didn’t have a low grade headache building behind his eyes, demanding attention, and he wasn’t craving sweets.

All he had was a damn runny nose, and that had _nothing_ to do an impending heat.

“Cas… Not that I don’t appreciate the concern and you tryin’ to look out for me, but it’s really just a cold.”

“Dean…” Cas used the same measured patience Dean had just employed to calm his boyfriend, and Dean wondered if it’d been that annoying when he’d done it. “I realize your symptoms may not have started yet, but I can _smell_ that you’re going into heat. It’s… it’s overwhelming. I assure you, if you don’t feel anything yet, you will soon. I suggest you go home while you’re still feeling well enough to drive. I _promise_ I’ll take care of things here.”

Suddenly, Dean noticed the large amount of space Cas was giving him. They were always crowding each other’s personal space, especially behind closed doors. Right now, Cas looked like he wanted to flee; his body was rigid with unspent energy, likely fighting his desire to rush over to Dean and scent him. That’s what alphas did with omegas in heat right? Omegas they were dating and desperately wanted to fuck—

As soon as his brain jumped to the idea of him and Cas having sex, slick started to pool at his ass and his cheeks flushed with heat.

“Oh shit,” he whimpered.

“Get your things,” Cas said gently. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

They got a few looks as they made their way to the garage, but Cas exuded protective alpha and no one looked their way too long. When he helped Dean into his car, there was a moment when Dean wanted to forget all about his damn no sex resolution and beg Cas to come with him. Dean hadn’t gone through a heat without an alpha in years. Benny was great at helping ease some of his distress, but there was no way Dean wanted anyone but Cas now.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” Dean grit out. It took monumental effort to ignore his instincts and desires. But there was too much riding on this. Their first time couldn’t be during a heat or rut. They’d do something stupid and regret it afterward.

“I’ll call to check up on you later, okay? Don’t worry about work. I’ll make sure Becky takes care of things.”

“Thanks.”

It was borderline rude, but Dean hurriedly closed his car window and practically zipped out of the parking garage. He felt Cas watch him leave, but he didn’t dare look back. If he did, there was no way he was leaving there without his boyfriend along for the ride.

His heats were normally fine. Annoying, but easily managed.

This was not fine. This was not easily managed.

He’d taken a cold shower three times to relieve some of the heat pulsing through his body. He’d jerked off more times than he cared to admit. He’d already broken down and pulled out his box of toys, finding the dildo with the fake knot he rarely ever used.

Nothing. Helped.

Dean writhed naked in his bed, seeking relief but knowing he wouldn’t get it. Knowing damn well what and who he wanted. Fuck did he crave Castiel. Longed for the alpha to be there taking care of him, to be right here next to him, _inside_ him.

By the time Castiel called that evening, Dean had lost all coherency. He didn’t even bother to remove the toy he was slowly fucking into himself when he picked up.

“Cas?” he gasped.

“Hello Dean.”

He’d thought Cas’ voice would be a balm to ease his distress. If anything, it added fuel to fire.

“Want your knot,” Dean whined into the phone. That’s not what this call was supposed to be about. He knew that. Cas was going to tell him about work and the meeting and all this other shit Dean couldn’t care less about right now. All he could think about was Cas.

His right hand continued to pump his cock while the left continued to thrust the toy in and out of his slick hole. “ _Need_ it.”

There was a long, drawn out silence where nothing but their combined breathing could be heard.

“Do you have a fake knot?” Castiel asked. His voice was at least a half octave lower.

“Ye-yes. Using it… right now.” The tip of the dildo grazed his prostate and Dean moaned.

“Good. Keeping using it. Fill yourself up and pretend it’s me.”

He did as he was told and it felt so good, relieved some of the heat coursing through him and helped get his arousal under control. The fake knot caught and Dean could no longer move it freely; he was stuck with short thrusts and a need to feel come inside him. “It’s not the same… not as good as the real thing… I want _your_ knot. Want _you_.”

“I’m yours, Dean. We can talk about it later, but if you want me like that, you can have me. I… I’d like nothing more than to be there… to ease you through your heat… knot you like you want… _deserve_ …"

Cas’ breathing was heavy on the other end of the phone. Breaths ragged and speech stuttered, all Dean could imagine was Castiel laid out across his bed and pumping his cock. Probably teasing his knot with gentle pressure as he imagined himself surrounded by Dean’s tight, wet heat.

“Are you…” Dean had to swallow and try again. “Are you touching yourself?”

_God I hope he is..._

“You think I could listen to you like this and not? You sound divine. I only wish I could be there.”

“Why aren’t you?” His voice betrayed how needy he felt. His alpha wasn’t here.

… _His_ alpha?

 _Yes yes yes!_ his mind screamed. **_My_ ** _alpha._ **_Mine_ ** _._

“Heat… not a good time… to talk about this…” There was the unmistakeable sound of skin on skin.

_I bet Cas looks gorgeous when he’s jerking off._

_Of course he does. He’s_ **_always_ ** _gorgeous._

“Alpha, can I come? Please please tell me I can come. Come with me, please—”

This time Cas broke out in a moan. “Yes… Come for me, Dean. Come with me. _Now_.”

His back arched off the bed and he clenched around the toy inadequately trying to split him open. Dean cried out wordlessly, an echoing cry coming from Cas, miles apart but momentarily joined in shared bliss. It was probably the most satisfying orgasm he'd had all day, thanks in large part to Cas. Having him on the phone was almost as good as having him here.

“Fuck that felt good,” he mumbled.

“Yes.”

With his heart temporarily appeased by the flood of hormones, Dean sighed in contentment. That good, relaxed feeling lasted about ten seconds before he started freaking out.

“Did we… did we just have sex?”

“I think it would depend on one's definition of ‘sex’ but yes, I believe that qualifies.”

"Shit.” The last thing Dean had wanted was for their first time to be over the phone. It was worse than that; this was Cas' first time _ever,_ and Dean hadn't even _tried_ to make it special. He was such a selfish prick—

"What's wrong?”

A selfish prick who was worrying his boyfriend.

"I just took your virginity over the phone,” he grumbled. "I'd had all these... these plans, and now it's too late. I fucking ruined everything. I—” Dean's voice dropped to a guilty whisper. “I didn't even get to _blow_ you first. What kind of awful boyfriend am I?”

“You're an amazing one, I promise. It was amazing. All I've wanted is to know what you sound like when you come, so I'm more than satisfied. Admittedly, I always thought my first sexual experience would be more vanilla. I assumed it'd take time to build up to something as kinky as phone sex, but I'm not complaining.”

Despite himself, Dean laughed. “Oh sweetheart, we've got a long way to go if you think _that's_ kinky.”

“I look forward to you broadening my horizons.” The sultry tone disappeared and solemn gravity took its place. “I'm not disappointed, so don't feel guilty. We can talk about it more in a few days once our heads have cleared. I should let you rest… Please promise you'll call if you need anything.”

“Anything, huh?”

“Anything,” Cas repeated. “I am in no way opposed to more phone sex. Maybe you could describe some of your ‘kinkier’ fantasies to me. In detail.”

Dean swallowed. “Yeah… I think I could do that.”

Dean's heat lasted two more days. He spent every single spike on the phone with Cas, saying all manner of filthy things. Even the inevitable talk that loomed ahead of them wasn't enough to ruin Dean's mood. At least during his heat, Dean got to indulge in everything Castiel.


	5. Dean

It was cowardly of him, but Dean avoided Cas when they got back to work the next week. They had so much to talk about, and it terrified him. He might lose Cas. Cas wanted a true mate, and Dean…

Dean loved him. Honest to god, he’d fallen hard for Cas and he knew there was no coming back. Cas was it for him. If this ended badly… Well, there’d be no coming back, plain and simple. It’d taken someone as amazing as Cas for Dean to get over the shit he’d been dealing with since Michael.

Intellectually, he knew they couldn’t avoid talking about their issues forever. The more he put it off, the harder it’d be and the more likely things would fall apart. But if he could pretend for a little while longer, then maybe—

“Can we talk?”

Dean looked up from his computer, eyes wide and heart beating erratically. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Sure. This about work or about… the other thing?”

“The other thing. I think it’d be a good idea if we addressed the elephant in the room.”

“Do we have to? I was kinda getting used to it…” he joked lamely. “Course. Dinner after work?”

Cas nodded and left. Dean immediately regretted not suggesting they take an extended lunch—how was he going to get anything done when his mind was playing worst case scenarios over and over in his head?—but he decided to look at it as an opportunity. An opportunity to figure out what the hell he was going to say and how he was going to convince Cas to give him a shot.

_I don’t want to be a placeholder for his true mate…_

_Fuck, this is an impossible situation..._

They drove separately. Dean put off leaving until the last second, but then he headed to Cas’ place. Cas had texted him saying he’d pick up food on the way home and to meet him there. Dean didn’t know what to make of that. It was probably good news, right? If you’re breaking up with someone over dinner, you do it in a public place. A nice restaurant maybe, but definitely not _your own_ apartment.

The doorman let him in and Dean tried not to freak out as the elevator took him to the tenth floor. He’d been to Cas’ place a few times and honestly wasn’t a fan. Not for any particular reason except maybe that it was so sparsely decorated. There were a few pictures put up here and there (Dean really liked those, seeing Cas’ family and places he’d traveled to around the world), but a good portion of Cas’ things were still in boxes. It always gave Dean the feeling that Cas thought he’d be moving again soon and didn’t want to bother with the effort of unpacking only to have to pack it all up again.

The door was ajar, an open invitation, but Dean still knocked before coming inside. The place looked just as unfinished as before, and Dean’s heart sank. Cas still hadn’t put down any roots in Columbus.

Cas was setting the table when Dean wandered into the dining room. They awkwardly fumbled through small talk while Dean took a seat and Cas grabbed them salads and wine. They managed to get through their salads before Dean couldn’t take it anymore. In frustration, he dropped his fork on the table, rested his head in his hand and groaned.

“We actually going to talk about this or do I have to eat the whole meal and pretend things are normal?”

Cas delicately put his fork down, wiped his mouth on his napkin, and looked across the table at Dean. His face was an unreadable mask, completely neutral, and Dean wondered what Cas was hiding. If this conversation scared him half as much as it did Dean.

“I didn’t want to rush you,” Cas said.

“Bandaid, man. Just gotta rip it off and deal with it.”

“Okay.” The corner of Cas’ mouth twitched up in a half-smile. “Would you rather ‘rip it off’ first or should I?”

“I’ll go.” Dean sat up straight. He put on his business persona. The in control marketing director who knew how to work a crowd and always got what he wanted out of a deal. It was safer than being himself right now.

Even though Dean had wanted to start things off, he sat there silently for a few minutes collecting his thoughts. Safely out of view, he wrung his hands together under the table. Cas waited patiently, and eventually _that_ was what gave him the strength to open his mouth and actually speak.

“I just… you want a true mate. I’m not that, and I feel like we… we’ve got an expiration date. Because either you’ll get tired of me because I’m not your true mate or you’ll…” He took a deep breath. He'd never said this next part out loud. “You'll scent bond with me and get fed up that I can't reciprocate.”

Cas stared at him blankly. “Who's told you that it mattered at all if you could ‘reciprocate’ a scent bond or not?”

“I dunno… My doctors… An ex-boyfriend…”

“... Was he an alpha?”

Dean flinched. He'd been caught, his hangups about alphas prominently on display. “Yeah.”

“... How opposed would you be to me finding this alpha and teaching him a lesson for _ever_ making you think you are anything less than extraordinary and worthy of love?”

There was no doubt that ‘teaching him a lesson’ meant ‘kicking his ass.’

“Not that it isn't a tempting offer, but you'd better not.” It was adorable how disappointed Cas looked. “But my baggage aside, you're still a guy looking for his true mate. No matter how much I want you for myself, how can I stand in the way of that?”

“Dean… I…” Castiel spoke very carefully, obviously taking care when choosing each word. “I admit, I had my assumptions and preferences when it came to true mates, but since meeting you, some of those assumptions and preferences have… shifted. The way I’d imagined my life and a mate… my expectations were wrong. I imagined things a certain way, but the reality is so much different. Better, but different. And I don’t want you to think that I’m upset or disappointed by how things have turned out. I’d rather have you than anyone else.”

Tears welled in the corner of Dean’s eyes. “Even if I don’t smell good?”

“Dean, you smell _very_ good.”

“I do?”

“At least to me, yes.”

_But not true mate good I guess._

“It doesn't change the facts,” Dean said. “You deserve your storybook ending with the perfect true mate.”

“You're really not going to let this go, are you?” Cas took in Dean's resolute expression and sighed. “Dean… _you're_ my true mate. I've known since the moment we met in your office.”

Dean’s world narrowed down to those four words: _you’re my true mate._

“Bullshit.” _Don’t lie to me, offer me everything I want only to have it ripped out from under me when the truth comes out._

“It’s true.” Cas’ expression was tight, like he’d feared this was how badly his confession would go. “Ask Becky. Or Missouri. Or really anyone. It's extremely obvious.”

“Extremely obvi—What the fuck?” Dean immediately pulled out his phone and started going through his contacts.

“Dean—”

“Nope.” He put up a finger to shush Cas and hit dial, phone pressed to his ear as he counted out the rings.

Becky picked up on the fifth one, her voice perky as she said, “What’s up boss, did you forget something—?”

“Is Cas my true mate?”

There was a long pause. Dean and Cas stared at each other, neither of them even blinking as they waited.

“He finally told you, huh?”

“Becky…”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “Smelled it when you two met. It was suffocating. Still kinda is, but you two are so damn cute together I—”

“Thanks Becky.” He hung up and put his phone down. The two people he trusted most outside of his own family were telling him the same story. What the hell.

“So?” Cas asked, worry lacing his voice.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked as neutrally as possible.

Guilt made Cas finally look away. “I wasn’t sure I should. I didn’t want to burden you with unfair expectations, or scare you off because of them. Becky cautioned me to take it slow, prove my affections are genuine. And they are. I had feelings for you before we officially met. Getting to know you in person has only strengthened what I already felt.”

“Do you… do you love me Cas?”

Cas’ head whipped up. “Yes. I think I have since I was in Rome nearly two years ago. But yes, I love you.”

Holy shit.

Cas loved him. Cas was his true mate and Cas loved him. Cas loved him _before_ he smelt Dean. It wasn’t just some phantom sense that Dean didn’t understand that told Cas to love him, it was Cas and Dean themselves without biology telling them how to feel about each other.

His euphoria died with that last thought.

Biology.

Right.

“That doesn’t really change the whole issue with me not being able to smell.” Dean pointed out. “You love me now, but when we can’t scent bond properly how are you going to feel about it then?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you have so little faith in how much I love you.”

“It’s… It’s not that!” It definitely sounded like that, actually, but that wasn’t what he’d meant to imply. “I just meant—”

“It’s fine, Dean. You’re allowed your concerns. If that’s how you feel, I’d rather know so I can reassure you rather than you keep it to yourself and let your doubts fester needlessly.” Cas smiled softly at him. “We're already scent bonded. I didn't realize it until your heat triggered my rut last week, but—”

“I love you,” Dean blurt out. All the obstacles he thought were there to keep him and Cas apart apparently hadn’t existed in the first place. They were dating, they were in love, and nothing short of them being idiots was going to change that.

Cas blinked at him, tilting his head to the side. “Yes Dean. I know you do.”

“Wh-what? Did you just Han Solo me? _Badly_?”

“Ohhh, is _that_ what people mean when they say that?”

“Don’t change the topic.” Dean pointed a finger at him accusingly. “How do you know I love you?” Cas smiled sheepishly at him. “Oh god,” he grumbled. “You can smell it, can’t you?” Cas’ abashed expression is all the confirmation he needed. “... How long have you known?”

“Not that long,” Cas reassured him. “Only about a month or so.”

“A month or so—!?” Dean took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands. “ _I’ve_ only known a week how could you… fuck this is embarrassing.”

A hand covered his and gently guided them away. “Dean… it’s okay. I’m just happy you love me.”

“Our first time having sex was over the friggin’ phone and I told you I loved you with my _scent._ How are either of those two things not ridiculous? I’m a terrible boyfriend…”

“Well, you’ve told me you love me now, so there’s no reason to be upset about that. And if you’re still bothered about the other things, we could always…” He trailed off suggestively.

“... Are you flirting with me right now?”

“Dean, I’ve been flirting with you pretty much constantly since I moved to Columbus. If you’re really asking if I’m propositioning you right now, then yes, I believe I am.”

Dean might not know much about what his scent was putting out there at any given time, but he was pretty sure the slick starting to soak his pants was a pretty clear indication of what he thought about that.

“Yeah,” he said, striving for calm. “Yeah okay. Let’s uh… let’s do that.”

“Would you like to finish dinner—?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Cas stood up and reached for Dean’s hand. “Shall we?”

Their hands linked together, thumbs running soothing circles on the other’s wrist. It was nice, but not _nearly_ enough. Half of Dean wanted to pounce on Cas and fuck him right here against the dining room table.

 _Bed,_ he reminded himself. _If you want him to knot you—and you fucking_ **_know_ ** _you want that—you’ll both be more comfortable on the bed._

Stupid logic.

He practically dragged Cas to his bedroom. Dean had only been in here once and that’d been an accident; he’d gotten lost on the way to the bathroom and quickly backed out once he realized where he was. It’d seemed like an invasion of privacy, overstepping some unspoken line. Now, though, he marched in like he owned the place.

His tie was first to go, then he was toeing off his shoes and rushing to unbuckle his belt. Gentle but firm hands stopped Dean. Cas’ warmth came up behind him and Dean leaned back into him.

Cas nuzzled the back of Dean’s neck and whispered, “We have time. No need to rush. Let’s do this right, okay? I know you’re upset about the phone sex… There’s no heat or rut getting in the way. It’s just us.”

“Not… _upset_ about the phone sex,” Dean corrected. He let his head fell forward so Cas could have better access to his neck; the alpha responded by kissing his way across Dean’s shoulders, up his neck, along his hair. It was pretty damn distracting. “It was good phone sex.”

“You know what I meant.” Cas’ hands slipped around to take over at Dean’s belt. He was surprisingly adept at getting Dean’s pants off without touching his cock. The damn tease. “You had certain… plans… for our first time. So tell me, Dean. What do you want?”

His pants fell, pooling at his ankles, and Dean kicked them aside, followed by his briefs, while Cas worked the buttons of Dean’s shirt.

“Me on my back, you on top of me. Your alpha cock fucking me senseless. Me losing my goddamn mind when your knot catches… That sound good to you?”

Cas’ hands were now exploring the planes of Dean’s chest, brushing against his nipples. “That sounds amazing.” His hands drifted lower to hold Dean’s hips in place, then he rubbed his clothed cock against Dean’s bare ass. “Get on the bed, Dean.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Crawling to the center of the bed, Dean quickly arranged the pillows and blankets. Just as he was getting comfortable, Cas joined him.

Dean had never gotten to see Cas naked. The most he’d gotten was Cas in a t-shirt and shorts on weekends, or maybe a peek at Cas’ lower back when he reached for something in the kitchen. Now, though, there was nothing but tan skin and his cock obscenely tenting the front of his boxers.

He’d known Cas was in shape, but _seeing_ it was totally different. Cas’ biceps were huge, his abs not a six pack but pleasantly defined, and his thighs… Dean could not wait to get his head between them, but that’s not what he’d asked for.

As Cas edged onto the bed, Dean spread his legs and raised his ass. Cas growled and surged forward, bending over to kiss Dean even as his hands moved to grope at Dean’s ass and trace around his slick hole.

“I’ve dreamed about this for _months_ ,” Cas said. A finger finally pushed past the ring of muscle into Dean’s hole and Dean arched into the touch. Their cocks brushed against each other, the precome soaked fabric of Cas’ boxers the only thing keeping them from rutting shamelessly to completion.

“Me too,” Dean admitted. “Longer, probably… Now shut up and open me up.”

Cas tsked. “Mouthy omega. It’s okay, I’ll give you what you need.”

Despite his bravado, Cas didn’t turn into a rough, demanding alpha. He tenderly kissed Dean while he slowly worked him open. He took the utmost care to make sure he was ready before adding another finger, experimented with different speeds and angles until he found all the different sounds he could draw from Dean.

And Dean focused on trying to hold it together.

“I’m ready, Cas. You can… You can uh… Oh fuck, do that again… Yeah, that’s good… Your cock… When you’re ready...”

“You sure?” Cas thrust his fingers in and hooked them. They brushed along Dean’s prostate and Dean could swear he saw sparks.

“Yes!” he gasped. “Fingers are good, but cock’s better.”

Cas chuckled and did as he was told. Dean’s hole clenched around nothing and he _hated_ that empty feeling. He could wait, though.

Taking his time, Cas licked his fingers clean of Dean’s slick (and _that_ image was permanently ingrained in Dean’s head to be the source of many jerk-off sessions to come) and then slowly took off his boxers. _Finally_ , Cas was naked. His cock was hard, knot already starting to swell, and he was absolutely _leaking_ precome.

“Get in me,” Dean whined.

“Patience.” Cas reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a condom. He fumbled a little opening it and almost dropped it before he could slip it on, but there was probably nothing Cas could do right now that wouldn’t make Dean keen in delight. His alpha was going to fuck him.

“Patience,” Dean said as Cas crawled back between his legs, “is overrated.”

He waited just until Cas had lined up his cock, the head barely breaching him, and then Dean hooked his ankles around Cas’ back and pulled until Cas slipped inside him. Within seconds, Cas had bottomed out; his balls flush against Dean’s ass, his cock twitching deep inside Dean.

“How’s your first time going, babe?” Dean tried to sound like he was teasing, but his concern showed through. It was one thing to say filthy things to Cas over the phone to help each other get off. _This_ was another matter entirely. He wanted to take care of his alpha, but at the same time he didn’t want to push Cas too fast too soon.

Cas whined, legs tense in an effort to hold still and his eyes screwed shut in concentration. “I… _Tight_ and _hot_ and… I can’t…”

“Hey, look at me.” Dean traced his thumb along Cas’ cheekbones until he opened his eyes. The blue orbs had the thinnest traces of alpha red bleeding into them. Castiel looked desperate, _wrecked_ , and Dean wanted to do nothing more than soothe him. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m ready. You did such a good job opening me up, I promise you’re not going to hurt me. You can let go. I’ve got you.”

Beyond words, Cas nodded. He pulled out slowly, no more than an inch, and then thrust back in experimentally. The small movement shivers of pleasure throughout Dean, a hint of more to come. He could only imagine what Castiel was feeling. He gradually built up speed and pulled out farther. It took him a while to build up a steady rhythm, Cas’ concentration turned inward as he gave in to feeling the moment.

Dean didn’t mind. He peppered Cas’ face in kisses and stroked up and down his sides, all while whispering words of encouragement.

“Yeah just like that, sweetheart. Doing so good. Love having you inside me, you know that? Wanted this for so long… Never going into heat without you again…”

It took Cas time to get comfortable enough to drive in more forcefully. The first few times he missed Dean’s prostate. Then he hit it, and Dean cried out, breaking off mid-sentence and moaning pleas for him to do it again.

Growling, Cas adjusted his position and then slammed into Dean relentlessly. It was rough and possessive and so damn hot, Cas drilling into him and Dean more or less along for the ride. The only thing missing was—

“Stay still,” Cas ordered. He grabbed Dean’s hands and held them over his head. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you keep _wiggling_?”

—was if Cas manhandled him.

“Oh fuck!” Dean cried. He squirmed in Cas’ hold, testing how secure he had Dean, and Cas’ grip instantly tightened. “ _Fuck!_ ” he repeated.  

As Cas continued to fuck him mercilessly, Dean cried out a continuous stream of curse words. Rapture flooded every nerve-ending. This was bliss. Complete and utter bliss. His instincts were begging him to bare his throat and submit, to let Cas use him however he wanted and to… and… Cas dragged his teeth over Dean’s neck, lapping at the pulse point and sucking on the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

A mark.

 _Fuck_ that sounded amazing. A mark to show he was Cas’. Apparently their smell gave them away, but that was only when they were together. He wanted something permanent, something that’d show he belonged to Cas

 _That’s_ what he wanted. He wanted a mating bite. Wanted Cas to find a spot and bite down and _claim_ him.

Dean shivered at the realization. It shouldn’t have taken him by surprise—he loved Cas, after all—but he _was_ surprised. Now that the thought was in his head, it was all encompassing. It was _everything_.

“What?” Cas asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Would you… would you bite me?”

Cas jerked forward harder than usual and his knot finally caught. He kept thrusting, shallow movements that wouldn’t be nearly enough if they weren’t offset by how _thick_ his knot was as it pressed into Dean.

“Dean you can’t—Do you mean it?”

“You’re my true mate. We’re scent bonded and everyone apparently fucking knows it,” Dean panted. “I want something _I_ can see. Something that proves to _me_ that we’re mates.”

Cas kissed along Dean’s neck. “Here?” he whispered when he found a spot he liked. It was low enough that his collar would cover it up when he was at work, but high enough that a t-shirt would expose it.

“Oh fuck, yes. Do it, baby, mark me. Show me I’m yours, prove it, alpha, prove it—”

Pain seared through him as Cas bit down, followed instantly by pleasure. He didn’t even realize he was coming until he felt the warm splash of come hit his chest. In truth, his orgasm was secondary to the immense and unadulterated _joy_ he felt as Cas licked at the mark he’d just made. He lay there, sighing happily as Cas continued to fuck lazily into him as much as his knot would allow.

“Dean?’

“Hmmm?” Dean had to concentrate far too hard to understand what Cas was saying. His senses felt dull, his mind sluggish. He honestly felt like he could drift off to sleep at any moment.

“Will you… Dean, would you...?”

“Huh?”

“Will you bite me too…? I’d like… I’d like that, too…”

 _That_ got his attention.

It wasn’t uncommon for omegas and betas to mark their alpha mates, but it wasn’t exactly the norm. Of _course_ Dean had ended up with an alpha who could fuck him into the mattress _and_ was sappy enough to want shared mating marks.

God this man was perfect for him.

“ _Hell_ yes.”

Cas bared his neck and Dean ran a finger over the unmarred skin. He wanted to bite _everywhere_ , suck and bruise so Cas would be feeling it for days—

 _Focus!_ he scolded himself. _Mating bite first, hickeys second._

He tried to mirror where Cas had bitten him, licking at the spot a few times before unexpectedly clamping down. Blood washed into Dean’s mouth, tangy and metallic. Cas whimpered pitifully as he rocked into Dean. Soon he was coming, his knot hardly enough to keep it from leaking out of Dean’s hole.

The air was knocked out of Dean’s lungs as Cas collapsed on him. Before he could protest, Cas rolled them onto their sides. He nuzzled into Dean’s neck and kept kissing the bite and rubbing the small of Dean’s back.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Go to sleep.”

“ _You_ go to sle—” A yawn interrupted Dean. “Fine,” he groused. “But you sleep too.”

“Yes, omega.”

\- - - -

Dean woke up first. It was either his stomach growling or the sunlight shining right into his eyes. At some point during the night, Cas’ knot had gone down enough for him to slip out. They’d hardly changed positions, though now Dean found himself the little spoon and a trail of drool on the pillow between him and Cas.

“Cas, I’m hungry.”

No answer.

“I’m gonna make us breakfast, okay?”

A half-grunt. When Dean got out of bed, Cas rolled over to steal the empty space. He buried his nose in the blankets and sighed happily, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Lazy alpha,” Dean teased, carding his hand through Cas’ hair. He was amused to see that Cas was a stereotypical alpha in at least one respect: he was dead to the world after sex.

Dean’s stomach growled again, louder and more persistently than before. Maybe skipping dinner had been a bad idea.

 _Wrong. Skipping dinner was an_ **_excellent_ ** _idea. The sex was_ **_awesome_ ** _._

He grabbed his underwear and pulled them on—he’d need a shower later, but this would do for now—and headed to go raid the kitchen.  

It wasn’t until he was out of the bedroom that he noticed that familiar yet strange smell again. It was stronger than before, and for once not irritating his sinuses. Dean sniffed curiously. Without the runny nose or sneezing, he was free to just enjoy it. And he _definitely_ enjoyed it.

Curious, he ducked back into the bedroom. The smell was there, but it was both stronger and less distinct. it was probably mixed with other smells that Dean couldn’t pick out. Going back into the hallway, the scent was cleaner. Easier for him to find, even though it was subtler.

Dean shrugged and ignored it. He was hungry, and chasing phantom smells wasn’t helping that.

He walked into the kitchen, whistling, and started digging around for food. Cas had gotten them steaks for dinner, but that wasn’t exactly a breakfast food, so he left those alone in the fridge. Maybe for lunch. There was plenty of bacon and eggs; he could whip them up something real quick and serve Cas in bed.

It wasn’t easy, but Dean ignored the small twinge of arousal that shot through him when he thought about _serving_ Cas.

Once he had the bacon sizzling in the pan, Dean went to go look for coffee. Because of their no sex policy, Dean had never spent the night and was rarely here, anyway. It took longer than it should’ve for him to find the coffee, and embarrassingly longer to spot the coffee maker on the far side of the kitchen.

 _Hmmm,_ he thought. _Wonder if I can convince Cas to move into my place. He_ **_is_ ** _already packed…_

As he walked towards the coffee maker, he caught traces of that smell. It was stronger than anywhere else in the kitchen and… different? Not quite the smell that’d been following him around lately, but very close. It was strange, being able to detect that slight difference between two smells.

He sniffed, trying to follow his nose and figure out where it was coming from. Not the pantry or the cupboards… Could smells escape the fridge? He checked just in case, but no, it wasn’t in there. It seemed like the only way he’d find the faint scent was to ransack the kitchen—which he was completely prepared to do—when a voice interrupted his search.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked from the doorway.

Dean jumped and looked sheepishly at his mate. “I uh… I smell something? Just trying to figure out what it is.”

Cas leaned against the archway separating the kitchen from the dining room and gesture for Dean to continue, looking equal parts amused and curious.

He went back towards the coffee maker, thinking maybe he needed to start over. It was definitely _near_ the coffee maker.

“Smells like… like…” Dean growled in frustration. He didn’t _know_ what it smelled like was the problem. It could be anything and he’d never know.

“Bread?” Castiel offered.

“Bread,” Dean repeated. He turned back around and headed to the bread box, grabbing a loaf and holding it up to his nose. He took long, deep breaths and pulled in the familiar (familiar! he recognized a new smell!) scent and sighed happily. He held the loaf up happily to Cas. “I can smell bread! I know what bread smells like!”

He could add that to the short list of smells he could identify. Freshly cut grass. Pecans. Dark chocolate. Bread.

Realization hit him like a freight train.

His dad, his mom, his sister, and…?

Dean rounded on Cas, practically tackling him as he buried his nose in Cas’ hair and drew in a lungful of air. It was the same smell that he first noticed weeks and weeks ago, the one that was _everywhere_. Stronger than before and up as close as this, extremely distinct. It was so mouth-wateringly good that Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever look at bread the same way again, knowing it smelled like his mate.

  


“I’ve been told I have a grainy scent.” This close, Cas’ voice rumbled through Dean. “Wheat and barley or freshly baked bread.”

“You smell _so fucking good_ ,” Dean drew his teeth over the mating bite. It was scabbed over but would be so easy to rip into. “So fucking good, holy crap.” He rubbed his growing erection against Cas’ thigh to emphasize the point.

“Of course you think it smells good,” Cas said. “You can barely smell anything. I’m sure if I smelled like spoiled milk, you’d love it—Ow!”

“You’re such an ass!” Dean swatted his mate again. “You’ve got a horny omega willing to do anything you want, and here you are, teasing me!”

“Let me make it up to you then…” Cas purred, stepping in closer. Dean swallowed in anticipation… and then Cas stepped around him to the stove. “After breakfast. I’m starving.”

Oh right. He was starving.

“Fine… but I’m going to eat all your bread.”

“You should put some honey on it,” Cas said as he turned off the stove and began plating the bacon. “Or butter. Maybe some jam…”

“... I feel like you’re making a joke about my scent.”

Cas flashed him a brilliant grin. “I might,” he said with a wink. “What can I say, we’re a delicious combination.”

* * *

  **Epilogue:**

  * They move into Dean’s apartment. Cas admits he never fully unpacked because he was waiting to see how things went with Dean. If he and Dean ended up together, great! They could live at Dean’s place. If it didn’t… Well, he didn’t expect to stay in Columbus. It would’ve hurt too much.  

  * Dean’s not sure who shrieks louder when they find out about him and Cas mating, Becky or his sister. His parents are stoic in their happiness, but it’s obvious in the way they treat Cas that they approve and are thrilled that their son’s so happy.  

  * Dean and Cas become a power couple at Sandover. The two of them end up running the company within a few years. Sandover’s never been more lucrative or had higher employee satisfaction than with those two in charge.  

  * When Sam Wesson returns to work, he immediately hits it off with Cas. Cas, Sam, and Dean become good work friends. They hang out on the weekend, and seeing Cas interacting with Sam’s pups really gets Dean’s hormones pumping...  

  * They have three pups. The first one’s by accident (heat/rut sex where they ran out of condoms and thought they’d take their chances), but they adore having a pup so much they have two more. The oldest smells like oak, the middle one smells like mint, and the youngest smells like the ocean. Dean is very pleased that he can smell all three of his pups’ scents.  

  * Dean and Cas’ pups end up being best friends with Sam’s. They’re basically like cousins.  

  * Dean never learns how to read moods from smell. He’s had no experience with it, plus as far as he’s concerned, Cas always smells _amazing_. Picking between different levels of amazing is too much for him.  
  
The _only_ exception is when Castiel is absolutely _pissed_. His scent becomes overpowering and burnt. Dean rarely sees Cas that angry (the two are very happy together and Cas in general isn’t prone to anger), but there’s this one time Adler suggests that as a pregnant omega, Dean can’t handle his workload anymore. Dean can smell how enraged Cas is, but he calmly asks Dean to excuse him and Adler for a moment to chat. Adler turns in his resignation later that day.  
  
“I don’t need my alpha mate to do stuff like that,” Dean scolds him that night.  
  
“I know, but I like doing it.”  
  
Satisfied, Dean lets it go.  
  
I should also point out this last part happens while Dean’s riding Cas in their bed.  

  * Dean l o v e s the smell of bread. It’s the one scent he can always pick out, and he adores it. Cas likes to tease him about it, but also indulges Dean’s obsession by buying him candles that smell like bread and wheat.  

  * There is no end to the bread puns Dean uses around Cas.  
  
“Hey babe, I _loaf_ you.”  
  
“When you coming home? I _knead_ you.”  
  
“I’m definitely beating you at this game. Face it, you’re _toast_.”  
  
“The holiday party next week? _Scone_ be a lot of fun.”  
  
Cas’ response to each of these: “Whatever you say, _honey_.”  

  * Dean is tempted to name their kids after types of bread. This is the only hard no Cas has ever given Dean.  

  * The first time Dean walks into a bakery after mating with Cas, he gets an awkward boner. He can’t help it—it literally smells like he’s surrounded by Cas. Cas is amused and is determined to learn how to bake fresh bread.  

  * Dean also makes super pornographic noises as he eats any sort of bread. Sandwiches? Check. Toast? Check. Croissants, biscuits, and naan? Absolutely. Sometimes it gets so bad that Cas can’t be in the same room while Dean’s eating.  

  * This probably leads into a surprising amount of food play, but you didn’t hear that from me.




End file.
